


This Is A Modern Fairytale

by happywriter16



Category: Justified
Genre: Black Character(s), Canon Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Interracial Relationship, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Spoilers, Wish Fulfillment, hasn't Art suffered enough, it's my fic i can do what i want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywriter16/pseuds/happywriter16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Rachel likes Raylan despite herself. And Raylan isn't so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is A Modern Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Thanks to traycer_ and red_b_rackham for organizing the challenge this year! Huge thanks to shetiger for the art, which can be found her: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7873819/chapters/17982103. Also, thanks to shapeshipperfor the beta.
> 
> 2) Title from The Heart Wants What It Wants by Selena Gomez (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ij_0p_6qTss). 
> 
> 3) Spoilers for Seasons 1-5.
> 
> 4) Rachel needs a friend and in my head she’s friends with Det. Lydia Adams from Southland (http://southland.wikia.com/wiki/Lydia_Adams). They met a National Organization of Black Women in Law Enforcement’s (www.nobwlenational.org/) annual convention years ago and have been friends ever since. Diego Ochoa and Josie Ochoa are also from Southland as well. Minor spoilers for the series. Nothing that will hurt your enjoyment of the show if you decide to watch it. Rachel’s also friends with Joss (http://personofinterest.wikia.com/wiki/Joss_Carter.) No spoilers for that show.
> 
> 5) I don’t even know when I started this fic. I just had pieces of the beginning in my head. And every time I heard the song Stay (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JF8BRvqGCNs by Rihanna), I’d always think of Rachel and Raylan. As I’ve written this over several months, I’ve thought of these characters when I’ve heard certain songs. Voila, a Fan Mix (http://happywriter06.livejournal.com/337122.html). I ship R/R even though Rachel on the show should not become involved with Raylan on the show. (Erica Tazel’s thought on the matter can be found at http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2015/01/justified-final-season-erica-tazel-interview) I decided to write a fic where they could be in a relationship without Rachel looking like a fool and Raylan, a little less dickish and a little more self-preservation. I hope I pulled it off.
> 
> 6) If you’ve read a couple of my other R/R fics, you’ll notice they’ve been incorporated somewhat into this story because they fit so well.

Dade County is the polar opposite of Fayette County. The music. The sun. The bullshit. Rachel doesn’t know if she’d fit in long term. But she likes it anyway; short-term that is when she needs to be reminded of how things can be outside of Kentucky. That may have something to do with the men – all kinds, local and foreign – that eye her and not like they do in Kentucky. It’s not like in Miami she’s got men trailing after her or anything remotely close. She gets her fair share of attention though and who wouldn’t like that?

Even in the short-term though, she doesn’t like the bars in Miami. Too slick. Too many people wanting to see and be seen. You can’t get a good damn drink that doesn’t cost what some people earn for a couple of hours worth of work. She's been to Miami a few times, for work and for pleasure. She hasn’t found the kind of place she’d find in Kentucky. What she has found is close enough. It’s a cop bar in the middle of South Beach, not far from her hotel near the convention center. It’s still kind of slick but not as bad as other places she’s walked into and left soon after arrival. It’s the place she comes back to when she can. 

It’s a Thursday night, the last day of the convention, and she finds herself alone, a friend and colleague from New York City having left early in the day for work and personal reasons. Alone or not, she’s decided she’s not wasting the night alone in her hotel room.

She spots him looking at her soon after she walks in the door. The look on his face is curiosity. He may even like what he sees. Her hair is down, long black locks framing her face, skimming her shoulders. Her tank top is fitted, gleaming white even in the dimness of the place. It makes her brown skin stand out. Her jeans are as fitted as her top. All of it perfectly showing off a body she was blessed with and takes very good care of. 

He watches her walk to the bar and catches the bartender’s attention. He’s got a great view of her. He stares while sipping his drink. When she turns his way, he smiles. The smile isn’t returned but she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. He smiles then continues to stare as he downs the rest of his drink then makes his way around the bar to get to her.

“You know it’s rude not to smile when someone smiles at you.” He sits down next to her then leans on bar with his chin in his left hand. 

“You know it’s rather presumptuous to lecture someone on rudeness.” 

He laughs. “I like you.”

“You should. I’m likable, my bad manners notwithstanding.” That’s when he gets a smile, all white teeth and dimples.

“Ray,” he says as he extends his hand. 

“What a coincidence. Rae, with an e,” she tells him as he takes her hand then kisses it. She can’t help it. She rolls her eyes. His only reaction is a laugh. 

“Well then, I say it’s a damn good thing I decided to come and get a drink tonight.” Finding him in a bar during the week isn’t a rarity. Usually it’s just to unwind. This Thursday he needs to drink. It’s been the kind of shit storm of a day that requires a couple of rounds. Then a walk around town to sober up before driving home. 

He hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but the game on TV. Some guys getting loud about something near the door had caught his attention. He turned to look at the commotion at the same moment she entered the bar. 

“Look who’s being presumptuous again.” 

He laughs again, says, “I wasn’t. I promise.” 

“Liar.” She takes a sip of her drink the bartender drops off then turns to look him. All he does is smile. “I know your type.” He raises his eyebrows as if to say do you now? “You train those chocolate brown eyes on a woman, smile wide showing off those dimples and you expect her panties to drop.”

He huffs. _Cop. Definitely a cop._ She’s not dressed like cop but he knows even when not working, the regulars like to come and hang out. She’s not a regular since he’s never seen her here before. Any local is going to know just what kind of bar it is. And most people not from around here usually don’t make it inside, preferring the “tourist traps” a few blocks over. 

He’s got nothing to say to that. He motions for the bartender to come on over. He needs another drink. She smirks at him the whole time. He can’t tell if it’s a good thing or bad thing. Sure he wants to get laid but he’s not hard up. Dade County isn’t like any place he’s been before. And he knows he doesn’t fit. The music. The sun. The bullshit. But he likes it anyway. That may have something to do with the women – all kinds, local and foreign – willing and he’s most certainly able. 

By the time he gets his drink, she’s swallowing the last of hers. He motions for the bartender to bring her another. 

“Trying to get me drunk, Ray?”

“Of course, my eyes and dimples apparently aren’t enough tonight.” Somehow it’s possible for his smile to have gotten bigger and his smile even sexier.

“Well, then I guess I better get the good stuff.” She tells the bartender, “Screwdriver with your best vodka.” He comes back with a glass jar in the shape of a skull and a glass. 

Raylan raises an eyebrow. “Eddie, what’s this?” Eddie’s an older guy, gray around his temples, in the mustache and beard that nearly cover his smile. He spent twenty-years with the Miami Police Department before buying the bar. 

“Don’t judge a book by its stupid cover,” Eddie responds as he pours some out for Rachel. She watches as he pours in the glass, the ice cubes clinking as they move.

“Where’s the orange juice?” Rachel asks. She’s not much of a drinker. At the first bar she ever went to in college, when asked what she wanted, she asked for the first thing that came to mind. Screwdriver, her mother’s drink of choice. 

“The best vodka you drink straight. Trust me,” Eddie says. 

She can see Ray out of the corner of her eye watching her. Rachel hisses as the liquor goes down. “Wasn’t expecting that,” the bartender laughs as he says it. “Enjoy.”

They don’t talk as they drink. He eyes her and she him, a hint of a smile on her face, like she knows something he doesn’t. “Leaving already?” he asks, when she slides off her stool. 

She leans in, her breath warm in his ear. “I’m not wearing any panties.” Then she’s stepping away, her eyes never leaving his until she turns to make her way out the building. He downs the drink, drops probably too much on the bar, and nearly forgets his hat, still where he left it at the other end of the bar, before he’s out the door. She’s leaning against a parking meter when he makes it outside. 

Her eyes rise in question at the hat he puts on his head. “You do know South Florida isn’t really the South?” she asks, pushing off the meter.

“Do I look like the kind of guy that gives a shit?” It’s her turn to laugh. 

“My hotel is near the convention center,” she says before turning to walk away. _Definitely a cop._ He remembers the Miami Dade Convention Center is hosting some kind of women in law enforcement event. If he gave a shit about people giving him shit about the hat and he was perhaps more thoughtful in choosing the folks he sleeps with, he’d tell her he’s changed his mind. If she’s in law enforcement, chances are (however slim) he might run into her again. Sometimes that’s not a good thing. 

They walk in silence for a few blocks. It’s a typical August night, sticky with humidity even at eight, not enough of a breeze to cool anything off, not really anyway. She can tell he’s not from the area. Maybe from somewhere in Florida. Up north though. She’s heard it different up there, the kind of place where people may still wear cowboy hats. He doesn’t have an accent she can place. 

He almost doesn’t notice when she stops in front of a night club. Oasis, the sign reads. 

“You dance Ray?” she asks, voice something silky, sexier than it had been at the bar. 

He points to the hat, the question clear; do I look like the kind of guy that dances? She laughs because she knows he does, just not on the dance floor. He’s sexy as hell. She could tell in the bar but she can tell even better now. He’s not as tan as someone who lives in Miami could be and he’s got creases at the corners of his eyes. His hair’s a little long, streaks of gray throughout. And he’s a little on the skinny side. But there’s something about him. It’s more than the confidence that washes off of him in waves, like he knows he’s the shit, that plenty of women have dropped their panties for him with nothing more than a wink. His eyes have something to do with it, the creases at the corners adding to the appeal. She’s not thinking too hard about it though. It’s just one night. And so far she thinks she’s made a good choice. 

“I want to dance.” She’s pulling him toward the door, casting a smile over her shoulder at him.

The guys at the door look him up and down as they check their IDs like if it was later in the night, Ray wouldn't have a chance in hell of getting inside. She can tell by the tightness in Ray’s jaw that this club isn't some place he'd ever go into. The place is loud, in sounds, colors. Truth be told it isn’t some place she ever goes into either normally. _Not that places like this even exist in Lexington_. She’s got to make the night count. 

She leaves him at the bar at one corner of the dance floor. There's an empty spot there, just enough room for him to stand there and watch. It’s not that crowded though, too early for the real partiers. Even she knows that in Lexington things don’t start until after ten at night. 

It’s probably the liquor talking. Telling her it’s fine that he can really see her out on the dance floor. She can’t get lost in the crowd as she moves with the beat. The first song isn’t too fast. Something she’s heard before but can’t place at the moment. Then another song that’s become one of her favorites starts playing. Bright Lights by Gary Clark, Jr. 

_You gonna know my name by the end of the night, yeah You gonna know my name by the end of the night, well Bright lights, big city going to my head Bright lights, big city going to my head Bright lights, big city going to my head I don't care no, no Cause you don't care, no_

Soon she stops paying attention to the music, just dances, not paying him much attention either. 

Maybe it’s been ten minutes, maybe thirty; she doesn’t know when she notices him moving towards her. 

He’s tired of watching her. The perfect mouth. Her ass in those jeans. The looseness that was there at the bar is gone. There’s a tension there, like he’s on a mission. She smiles like she's having the time of her life. Her hand brushes his as she takes the bottle of water from his hand. His gaze follows the line of her throat as she swallows.

He leans in to say in her ear, “This isn't how I planned for you to work up a sweat.” 

“Well, I did have plans before I met you.”

He’s got his hands around her waist now. She puts hers around his neck. “Did you now?” 

“Yeah, have a couple of cheap drinks back at Eddie’s. Then dance in here for free. Maybe go back to my hotel room with some hot young thing I met in here.”

“Well, a little change in plans never hurt anyone.”

She laughs. “You sure you don't dance?”

He smiles that smile again then puts his mouth back to her ear. “Not the kind you do in a place like this.” She feels the words more than she hears them, his voice just above a whisper. Then she feels his teeth, grazing the skin just behind her ear, then his tongue slides down her neck. She can’t help but let him do it. To feel the shivers that go through her. When his lips close hit where neck and shoulder meet, she’s more than ready to leave. 

It’s a quick walk back to her hotel, the air still thick with humidity. It feels thicker than before, makes the shirts stick to their skin uncomfortably. Or it could just be the sweat she worked up in Oasis. They walk, linked by her pinkie holding one of his. She can’t remember the last time she did something like this. She can’t imagine he’s the type to do this ever. _Probably doing it because he just wants to get laid._

Once in the elevator, the first thing he says to her since leaving the dance floor is, “Are you going to tell me later that you don't normally do this?” She doesn’t answer. “’Cuz that's what they all say, true or not.”

“Would you think less of me if I said I do this all the time?”

“Would you think less of me if I said I don't give shit?”

“What do you give a shit about?” That’s the wrong question to ask if the look on his face is any indication. It’s quick; a flash of something dark, then it’s gone. Then the elevator dings at her floor. _Saved by the bell._

Her room isn't huge but the bed is and that’s all that matters. The view more than makes up for the room’s size – the view of downtown Miami all lit up. Rae kicks off her shoes and drops her purse on the desk a few feet from the bed. In the glass door leading to the balcony, she sees him place his hat on the desk, the whole time watching her watch him. 

Ray gets behind her, placing one hand on her waist, the other to pull her hair to one side. Her head falls to the left and her hands press against the glass. As he kisses her neck, he pulls her tank out of her pants then pulls it over her head. Her bra is next. He nudges her against the glass, hears her squeal from cold hitting her nipples. When she pushes back against him, he slips his hands around her breasts. He squeezes and kneads, eliciting moans as he nips at her neck and ear. She presses her ass against his crotch at the same time.

He works her jeans open, hastily presses them down. He has to slow down then, allow her time to step out of them. He spins her next then stands. He makes eye contact and then looks down. When his eyes meet hers again, he says, “You weren’t lying.”

His hands slide down her back over her ass to cup her cheeks. A low groan escapes the both of them when his groin presses up against her. The press of rough denim feels so good to Rachel. When he pulls away, she follows only to have him push her back against the glass. There's the squeal again. She can’t help it. The glass is damn cold and he’s getting some kind of pleasure from making her squeal. 

“You’re not very nice.” It comes out shaky, as she shivers. Between the glass and the hair on his face scraping across her skin, it’s almost too much and he’s only gotten started. He gets to his knees, slides his hands down her legs and she just wants to melt right now. 

He dives right in, mouth pressed against her, tongue trying to find her clit. She tries to laugh. It comes out more as huffs and moans. _This is nice._

Soon she's fucking his face, telling him, “Just like that” and “Don't stop”. Before long it’s just a stream of moans interspersed with curse words as he sucks and nips, soon adding two fingers to the mix. He’s got to pump harder and faster to keep the friction up as she gets wetter and wetter. 

When she knows she’s close, he doesn't stop like she asks, begs really. Instead he brings both her legs over his shoulders. Rae can feel him watching her. She feels wild, way too exposed. Stupidly she tries to grab the glass, her hands sliding through the sweat. All she can do is brace herself as best she can against the glass. Even still, she can feel her body sliding as he pushes her over the edge. 

Her body stills, then goes slack, jerking at every flick of his tongue on her sensitive flesh.  
He lets her legs down gently, pressing his head against her stomach. Ray stays like that a few seconds then he's up, backing up towards the bed, his shirt coming off, boots then jeans. The whole time she watches him, eyes following every piece of flesh as it’s revealed.

He motions for her come here. She doesn't go right away. She goes to the night stand closest to her first. It’s just enough light to see to open the foil package. He catches her mouth while she slips the condom on him. It’s like he wants to lick the taste of her out of her mouth, like he didn’t get enough a few minutes ago. 

His hands leave her face, slide down her arms. Then his hands are under the thighs lifting her up. She follows his lead, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He moves, kneeling on the bed, and then laying her down. 

He never stops kissing her, mouth hot and skilled on hers. He swallows her moan when he finally enters her, a slow easy thrust. They are all like that, just enough pressure to keep her moaning but not enough to get her off again. She pushes at him, looks him in the eyes. 

“Harder.”

There’s that smile again, like he’s got it, she need not concern herself. She rolls her eyes at him. He hitches her legs up higher, shift so the angle’s a little different; the pressure just wants she needs. Before long, she’s coming again and so is he. 

 

Morning comes bright into the room, the curtains not having been closed. Rachel feels warmth at her back, a hand resting on her lower back. She rolls and the hand, slightly calloused, feeling like hard in the same place as her own, slides off. Rachel blinks against the light in her eyes until her sight finally adjusts. She stretches, the sheet slipping down her body a bit. The man next to her doesn’t stir. She stares at his back for a few moments before going to the bathroom. 

She contemplates taking a shower, wondering if she should wait until, if she’s completely honest, the stranger is gone. Immediately after that thought, his name comes to her – Ray – followed by memories from the night before. She smiles remembering the night and just a few hours ago. She supposes they didn’t fall asleep until after midnight. She can’t tell by the sun how early it is, but it feels early like too early to be up after all that, way too early to be up on a day off.

He’s still here. Perhaps there’s time for another go round. Her flight is late in the day. And it doesn’t seem as though he’s got to be at work. She hadn’t woken to any alarm going off. 

She’s in the middle of brushing her teeth when a knock at the door startles her. “One second.” She washes her face and fixes her hair then goes to the door. 

Upon opening the door, his face breaks out into a smile. “You do know I’ve seen,” he stops speaking and gestures with his head at her body, which is mostly hidden behind the bathroom door. He managed to slip into his jeans while she didn’t think to put anything on. 

“Says the man that put on pants.” She’s smiling, too, sliding a leg from behind the door, testing. 

The next thing Rachel knows is the shower at the hotel is big enough for two. 

R&R

She sees the hat first sitting at the end of the conference table closest to the door. Off-white with brown leather trim around the base. _A thousand have probably been made. It could belong to anyone._  
  
When she looks up, there he is sitting, his left profile facing her. Same nose, cheeks. Black hair with silver. Still a little too pale for someone living in South Florida, the hat having done its job in shielding him from the sun. Clean shaven this time though. Flashes of that night flit through her mind as she walks to the conference room. Art had seen her, stood and gestured for her to come inside the room. Ray turns and smiles.  
  
_Fucking Miami._  
  
“Raylan Givens, meet Rachel Brooks. My best marshal,” Art says. 

“Hey,” Tim says.

“Shut up, Tim,” Art orders. “Rachel listens and rarely shoots anyone.”

“Well, Art I’d say you need me then. Add some excitement to your life.” Raylan grins at Art and Art frowns back. She can tell this is the dynamic between them. “Nice to meet you Rachel,” Raylan says after Art has walked back to the far end of the conference table. She can’t tell if he remembers her or not.

“Same here Raylan.”

“Raylan, I don’t need your kind of excitement. Neither do you or you’d still be in Miami.”

Raylan turns to look at Art to say something but is interrupted by Tim. “Rachel, let’s say you and I get to work and leave these two lovebirds alone.” Rachel starts to laugh but stops after seeing the expression on Art’s face. 

“Tim, I told you to shut up.”

“Yes, sir,” he’s smirking as he says it. 

“Same old Art,” Raylan says. 

“You can shut up, too.”

Rachel can feel Raylan watching as she goes to her desk. Tim’s right behind her. At her desk, Tim says, “You missed the spiel Art gave me about Raylan.”

“Do tell,” she says sitting down in her chair. She can see Raylan and Art out of the corner of her eye. 

Tim perches on the edge of her desk. “The long and short of it is he and Raylan were at Glynco together. He got assigned here after shooting Tommy Bucks on the rooftop of some hotel in Miami. Justified, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Apparently, he’s racked up quite a few justified shootings.” Rachel raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know how many exactly.” He slides off the desk. “I’ll let Art fill the rest in.”

“Why didn’t he just wait until I got back?”

Tim laughs. “I don’t think he could wait that long. Needed to vent I suppose after Chief Deputy Grant left here.”

“Chief Grant came all the way to tell Art Raylan was coming?”

“Yup.”

“You sure all the shootings were justified?”

Tim shrugs. “One hundred percent justified or not, there’s got to be a price on his head for killing Bucks. Professional courtesy to come in person for dumping him here.” 

“I suppose,” Rachel says, leaning back in her chair, her eyes now fully on Raylan and Art. 

“And he’s a local boy, Harlan, whose daddy apparently keeps the locals on their toes so there’s that as well.”

“Guess I came back just in time.”

“Yeah. Lunch? You can tell me about all the stuff you got up to on vacation.”

“Sure,” she smiles. 

She just had to be on vacation the week Ray, Raylan Givens to be exact, gets transferred to her office. He’s supposed to be a cop. In Miami. One she’d never see again unless she made her way up back there and by some chance ran into him again. It’s probably better that she was away. This way she had no time to think about it if it was really him, if it was that much of a coincidence. 

_You just had to go out that night._

Art and Raylan must be done because Art’s walking into his office at the same time he’s pointing Raylan in her general direction. 

_Oh, shit._ Rachel pulls her chair up to her desk and starts looking at files. 

“Is this seat taken?”

She looks up to see Raylan smiling at her and standing by the desk next to hers that’s been empty for months. 

“It’s all yours.” She smiles. _Lucky me._

 

By the time Rachel gets to her car, Lydia’s number has been dialed. It’s been too long a day already and she’s been bursting (she can be honest) to tell someone about Raylan being in Lexington. And there’s only one person she can tell.

“Hey, Rachel.”

“Hi. You busy?”

“Yes, but any excuse to get away from this desk and the paperwork I have to do, I will gladly take.” Lydia’s moving as she says it, making her way through the building then outside. The station abuts a grassy area that barely qualifies as a park. She’s been stuck inside all day with Josie fuming at her desk. Once again, they disagreed about something. 

“You need to go somewhere private though.”

“Rachel, you okay? Mama Brooks okay?”

There are many things to love about Lydia. One of which is the fact that if something was wrong with Rachel or her mother, Lydia would be on the next plane to Lexington.

“We’re all fine. I know what your reaction will be so I don’t want everyone looking at you like you crazy.” 

“They already look at me like I’m crazy. Anyway, I was making my way outside the second you said hi. Josie’s getting on my last good nerve.” 

Rachel laughs. “She really getting on your nerves or you just saying she is?”

“You my friend or hers?”

Rachel laughs again. “Your best friend, of course.”

“Damn right. Anyway, this time she’s really getting on my nerves. Such a know-it-all.” Lydia takes a deep breath. “Enough about me. Spill.” Lydia’s outside now, making her way across the parking lot to the grassy area. 

Rachel takes a deep breath. “The cowboy is here.”

Lydia’s surprise is loud and clear, a sharp bark of “WHAT!?!? And then laughter. “The cowboy’s in the same town?”

“The same town. The same office.”

Just before Rachel got on the plane to Lexington all those months ago, seven to be exact, Lydia sent a text asking if she made the most of her night. Rachel had responded, “I think I met a real life cowboy. Tell you later. About to board.” Lydia response was, “WHAT!?!??!” By midnight in Rachel’s time zone, Lydia had the whole story (minus a few details) including the name Raylan had given her. They like to call him Cowboy anyway. 

“You serious?”

“He’ll be sitting at the desk right next to me for who knows how long. I knew should’ve made Tim move next to me after Roman left.”

Lydia laughs again, chuckles interspersed with “Girl, girl”. 

Lydia hadn’t been in Miami at the convention with Rachel but a mutual friend, Joss, had been there. She was the friend the friend and colleague that left early. If she hadn’t, Rachel would’ve hung out with her instead of looking for fun. She thought that fun would be an ever pleasant memory. 

“Well, it’s not as bad as sleeping with your partner’s son.”

“WHAT? When did this happen?” Rachel asks, thinking she really should’ve waited until she got home for this conversation. 

“Yes. His name is Diego. I met him a couple of times. I never thought much of it. He came by the station three days ago specifically to ask me out.”

“And you turned him down.”

“Of course. He’s persistent though. Drinks led to dinner led to him taking me back to his place.”

“Even though he’s Josie’s son, you deserve some fun.”

“And fun it was.” They both laugh. 

“You going to see him again?” Rachel asks. 

“I told him we can’t, a onetime thing. The next day he sends me flowers. The card said till next time.”

“You should have a next time.” Rachel knows Lydia, that she’s shaking her head no as she says it over and over. “I mean it. He’s grown, you’re grown and both are free to do what you want especially if you really like it each other.”

“If he wasn’t Josie’s son, I’d probably see him again. I have to face Josie every day. How am I going to be mad at her if I’m feeling guilty every time I look at her? And I’ll have to lie just like I did today about who sent the flowers. That’s too much. And she’d kill me.”

“Well, don’t tell her anything unless it gets serious.”

“She’s not going to kill you.”

“You don’t know Josie. I think she did something to her last partner. He just disappeared.”

“You lying?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Shut up. As I was saying, no need for guilt. This could be a good thing, a really good thing. What’s his name again?”

“Diego.”

“You and Diego could get married.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

“I better be maid of honor.”

“Same here when you and the Cowboy decide to make it official.”

Rachel groans, both at Lydia’s words and the traffic congestion she’s now found herself in the middle of. 

“As fine as he may be, and Lord knows he’s fine, no.”

Lydia sighs. “You say that like you would take another ride if you two didn’t work together.”

“The thought has crossed my mind once or twice today.”

“Only once or twice?” Lydia laughs. “You know I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s too bad. Cowboy’s been the only guy since Joe.” Before Rachel can even respond, Lydia says, “Forget I just said that. I sound like my mother.” Rachel can’t see Lydia rolling her eyes at herself. 

“How is Mama Adams?” Lydia’s sitting on a bench now, face lifted to the sun. It’s not often that she spends most of her day inside.

“She fine. Wonderful if you ask her since she’s been seeing this new guy.”

“That’s nice. You don’t sound too happy.”

“She’s my mother so I want her to be happy. Just not in my house because she’s got too much to say.”

“Well, I wish my mother would start seeing somebody.”

“She could be. My mom and this guy were dating seven, eight months before I even heard of him.”

“Maybe.”  
“Anyway, maybe I wouldn’t care so much about what she says if she wasn’t living in my house, having sex in my house.”

Rachel nearly chokes on the water she took a sip of at the wrong moment. “What you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m sorry. No child ever wants to hear that no matter how grown they are.”

Lydia sighs. “I know. She’s talking about going to France with this guy so, Lord willing, my house will be mine again. And soon.”

“Then you and Diego can spend time at your place.”

“And I’ll have room for you and Cowboy when you two visit.”

This time Rachel sighs, “One of these days.” She doesn’t have to say the rest for Lydia knows just want she means. One day they’ll have uncomplicated relationships. 

Silence settles for a few moments before Lydia says, “I gotta go. I can see Josie looking for me.”

“Bye Lydia.”

“Bye Rachel.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

 

It’s a week after he shows up in Miami that she knows he remembers that night. 

When she opens her front door, he’s leaning against the doorframe, hat in his hands. He looks up at her, his eyes delighting in the look on her face. 

“How did you find me?”

“Rachel, we track people down for a living.” He’s smiling as he says it, the duh hidden in there somewhere. 

“Shut up,” she says, leaning against the doorframe as well, arms crossed. She deserved that answer so she smiles, too. 

“So Miami isn’t like Vegas, huh?”

“Apparently, not.”

He looks down at his hat, starts twirling it. It feels like minutes pass before he speaks again. “I debated coming here, bringing it up.” He looks up then. “I decided I didn’t want you to think that I forgot. You already think I’m an asshole.” 

“I don’t think you’re an asshole.” She’s looking him straight in the eye. It’s true. She doesn’t think he’s an asshole. A bit a dick. Seems to be able to find the exception to every rule. Thinks because he wears the hat, he’s really the Lone Ranger at times. 

He’s waiting, expecting her to say more. When she doesn’t, he says, “I thought you were a cop. Small damn world, we’d both wind up being marshals and then end up at the same office.”

“Too small,” she says, but she’s smiling as she says it. It hasn’t been as weird as she thought it would be after the shock of it wore all. She figured he forgot, which was a blessing. She doesn’t know what this means for them now. 

“Just wanted you to know I remembered you. You’re not easy to forget.” The way he says it, it reminds her of that night. 

“So you tried to forget me?” She’s off the wall now, standing with her hands on her hips, flirting with him now for some reason. 

“You telling me you left Miami and thought of me every day?” He’s smirking now. 

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

He laughs as he pushes off the wall, putting his hat back on his head. “Have a good night Rachel.” Then he honest to god winks. 

Her door is closed before he even gets to the steps to the porch. 

R&R

It’s been nearly nine months since he came to Lexington. Art in his infinite wisdom has paired them up on too many cases for her liking. Actually, that’s not fair to say as if Art didn’t talk to her about her working with Raylan. For all her experience, Raylan is more experienced with his decade plus years on the job, stateside and overseas. She still has a lot to learn. Art also told her he hoped Raylan learns a few things from her as well. She can also keep an eye on him, too. So she was forewarned.

Rachel’s come to realize Raylan’s the kind of guy you love and hate, when the hate isn’t really hate at all. The way he walks and talks and seems to know more than anyone else can unnerve you yet put you at ease at the same time. Prodigal son and Golden Boy, a combination not many people can pull off. 

She’s tired though. Of the job. Being in this car. She’s been stuck with him for two days on a stakeout outside a house in Phelps, Kentucky because the man inside messed with the wrong people. She’d much rather spend hours on end in a confined space with Tim, who admittedly was a tough guy to get to know at first. Now they’ve managed to become friends, actual friends and not just work friends. 

Him. She’s mostly tired of Raylan at this moment. What drew her to him in Miami, that edge, butts up against her straight and narrow ways more often than not. They’ve managed to work around it though. Become friendly.

Today though. It’s not working. 

It’s been tense at the office because of some new policies handed down. Policies Raylan’s let be known he’s not a fan of to Art, who promptly told him to get out of his office very loudly on more than one occasion. Rachel’s neutral on the policies, which for some reason sticks in Raylan’s craw. She and Raylan also didn’t exactly see eye to eye on their last case together either. It’s an unusually warm day for Kentucky this time of year. Add all that up plus the absolute boredom of stakeouts and she can’t wait for this assignment to be over. 

He’s sleeping now, which if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s quiet, she’d after something to say about that. His hat’s pulled down over his forehead to cover his eyes. She reaches across the space between them, feeling her shirt pull across her back. Yet, again she’s going to need a long shower at the end of the day because the van they usually use for this is being used for some more important job. And it won’t do to sit running the car all day just to be comfortable. She carefully picks his hat up, more nervous than she should be. He probably won’t care. 

The hat is a little loose, a little damp. She’s too close to the mirror in the visor to get the full effect. 

“Don’t you look mighty fine in that hat,” his voice is clear, as if he hadn’t really been sleeping at all. She can also hear him sit up, using the level to bring the seat up as well. 

She should’ve noticed him stir. “Just curious,” she says, taking one last look before slipping it off her head. No need of him thinking she’s like the cat that got the canary. 

“Better this way than you knocking it off my head one of these days.” 

It’s the first time she smiles at him all day. And it’s the last time she does it. 

Perry Johns must have gotten sick of being in the house for the past few days because he tried to run a few hours later. The take down should’ve been easy. Far from it. 

 

They’re driving back to the hotel when Raylan says, “Where’s Rae from Miami?” 

It’s the first time he’s mentioned their time in Miami since he came to tell her he hadn’t forgotten. “This is real life.” Rachel wishes she had the energy for the three plus hour drive back to Lexington, to end this assignment sooner rather than later. 

“I don’t buy it Rachel. That was the real you. Part of you anyway.” His tone makes her bristle like she’d be a better marshal if she acted more like consequences are of no consequence. Johns’ takedown left them both riled up at the other at how it went down. 

“Well, we all can’t be like you Raylan, doing whatever you want and not giving a fuck because you’re white, male and somehow can pull off being the Prodigal son and Golden Boy at the same damn time.”

“You ever consider I happen to be good at the job?”

“And you being a tall, good-looking white man with a shitload of swagger, that has nothing to do with it? You get away with just about every thing.”

“What do I get away with?”

“Look in the mirror. How do you think it'd go over if I came into work one day wearing a cowboy hat? You think I'd get away with that?”

“Want to try it on again back at the hotel? See how it’ll look when you get back to the office?” He’s holding it across the space between them. 

“Really Raylan? We’re joking now?” He opens his mouth to respond. She cuts him off. “I’m trying to make a point. It’s okay for you to say things to me, call me out but I get a little too close to home or I don’t want to do this” – shakes her hand between the two of them –“anymore because this white hat cowboy shit of yours, and you make jokes. Yes, you’re good at your job. And sometimes you get damn lucky. And yes, being a tall, good-looking white man with a shitload of swagger has something to do with it.”

“I never said anything about us.” He mimics her earlier hand gesture.

“Like that’s not what you meant as well.”

“I think you’ve made it pretty clear what you want. You did mention twice my good looks and swagger.” He has the nerve to smirk. 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep and Art will give me a promotion.” 

The conversation ends after that. Raylan, the man always with something clever to say, doesn’t say anything to that. He goes back to looking out the car’s front window.

 

She’s had a chance to shower and eat. She’s about ready to sleep when she hears a knock at the door. It can only be one person. She looks through the peephole anyway. Raylan’s standing there, hair wet from the shower, shirt not all the way buttoned. He doesn’t look like he wants to argue so she opens the door. 

She doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Raylan’s on her. His hands go to her face, holding her as he kisses, hard, an edge of desperation. She opens up to him willingly after a brief moment of panic. The second she does, he relaxes before kicking the door shut and sweeping her off her feet. 

 

Sometime while they were out, the lights must have gone out in the hotel because the alarm clocks blinks 8:39 in red at her. She hadn’t notice when she first got back to the room. She knows they didn’t get back to the hotel until nearly nine. It’s probably after midnight by now. Her cell phone is over on the dresser. She’s not willing to get out of bed at the moment to figure out what time it really is. The plan to get an early start is more than likely out the window now.

She turns from facing the clock. Raylan’s on his stomach, hands under the pillow and eyes looking right at her. 

“I have to ask, why the hat?”

He laughs. “That’s what you want to know right now?”

She shrugs. “You have something in particular you want to talk about?” she asks. “Like feelings or something?”

He buries his face in the pillow, his laughter muffled, before turning over on his back. “Honestly? I tried it on one time, and it fit.”

Rachel laughs. “Well, that’s disappointing. You got his modern day cowboy thing going on. I thought there was a little more to it than that.” 

“I never said I was complicated.”

“No, you just like complications.”

He sits up then, propping himself up on his right side. “Like this?”

“This doesn’t have to be complicated. We don’t have to do this in Lexington. Two and thru.” She’s sitting up now, too, back against the headboard, arms cross over the sheet on her chest. 

“And what if I want to do it in Lexington?”

“Like I said, you like complications.”

“Rachel, give me a break. We’ll sleep together again in Lexington. And again. And again not because -” 

“Someone sure thinks highly of himself.”

He could crack a joke right now. Talk about how he had a damn good reason to think so given the stuff that was coming out of her month a few minutes ago. Something about the look on her face says she wouldn’t appreciate it even if they were laughing seconds ago. 

“Because I like you.” She can’t help it, she smiles. It’s not when he said it in Miami, small talk to get into her pants. It’s more than that. She knows him well enough now to differentiate between the two. But she’s not sure it’s enough. 

“What we talked about in the car, I can only imagine how hard it has been for you to get where you are in the marshal service.”

“Because I'm black or because I'm a woman?”

“Shit, both. In the south no less. I’m pretty sure I got sent here because they knew it was the one place I didn't want to go. And Art. In fact, if I recall correctly, Winona and I promised each other we'd never come back here once we both had cleared the state line.”

“Speaking of Winona.” Raylan groans and flops down on his back. 

“I wasn’t bringing her up to talk about her any more than I already did. And no, I haven’t slept with her since I’ve been back. Forgiveness’ never been my strong suit.”

“And Ava?”

He rolls his head some so he’s looking at her again. “Almost.” She’s curious as to why he didn’t. Ava the kind of southern beauty that if she’d been born a couple of towns over, she’d been a beauty queen, went to college and became some politician’s wife. Rachel’s pretty sure Ava being a witness to Boyd Crowder being shot had very little to do with Raylan not sleeping with her because he wouldn’t have even considered it if being a witness mattered in the first place. 

“See? Complications.” She smiles again like she’s won the argument, sliding down to lie on her back. 

“I said I didn’t sleep with her. No complications. Us? This doesn’t have to be complicated. No one has to know. You’ll continue to be Art’s best agent and I’ll continue to be –“

Rachel interrupts with, “Art’s best agent.” 

Raylan huffs a laugh. “You know you’re Art’s best. Not me.”

“Maybe I’m his favorite. You’re a pain in his ass but he puts up with you because you’re good. The best, flaws and all.”

“All true except for me being the best.”

She pushes at his arm. “False modesty Raylan isn’t a good look on you.”

“Are we really debating this? Especially now?” He props himself back up on his arm to face her. 

She shrugs. “At the end of the day, we both can’t be the best.”

“Rachel, I’m not talking about this with your anymore.”

“Have you ever had to talk a woman into sleeping with you again?”

“Never.” No smugness, none of that “I know I’m the shit” bravado he seems to exude. 

“It’s not just the job,” Rachel admits. 

“We can be whatever you want.”

Rachel sighs, turns away from him. _Why is he pressing the issue?_ “What are you doing?” She feels him wiggling down the bed, running his hands over her stomach. 

“Helping you decide what you want.”

R&R

“Lydia.”

“Hey Rach.”

“Sounds like you started without me.” Rachel can hear the cork of bottle popping out. 

“It’s been that kind of day.”

“What happened?”

“The usual. Shitty people doing shitty things to other people. Kids this time. I don’t want to talk about it. It was just too much today.” Work is off limits during these weekly late night chats unless exceptions have to be made. 

“You sure you don’t want to talk?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. Is Mama Adams still around?”

“She and Harris left for Paris two days ago. Open-ended ticket apparently.”

“So why are you on the phone with me and not with Diego?”

“Family thing. He’ll be here tomorrow though. Besides, no man comes before my girl.”

Rachel smiles. “So things are going well with Diego?”

Lydia sighs. “Good. A little intense. He wants to move too fast.”

“Sometimes fast is good.”

“As my mother reminds me. Never mind the fact that she’s sixty-five and got a man. I think I have time.” Rachel can practically hear Lydia’s eyes rolling. 

“Why wait till sixty-five?”

“Why not?” Lydia laughs.

“I’m done with you.”

“Talking about me taking my time. What you about and Cowboy?”

“He likes me.”

“I like you, too, but I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Ha ha. He thinks we should be a thing, whatever I want.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m not going to lie. The sex is good and it’s been a while.”

“I get that.”

“Almost two years since the divorce. Time for a new relationship, right?”

“Or not. Friends with benefits.”

“I’m too old for that shit.”

“Never.” They both laugh. “How much have you actually had?”

“I’m feeling really good if you must know.”

“Hopefully by the time we get off the phone, I’ll be feeling just as good.”

“Hopefully.”

The conversation veers off to whatever catches Lydia’s eye on the TV, some crazy mess about people talking bad about the president. Somehow they start talking about work, which they quickly stop talking about. 

“Hold on,” Lydia says. “That’s Diego. I’ll tell him I’ll call him later.” She goes silent then starts again. “It is nice with him. Whatever it is. It could get real messy. So I don’t know what to tell you about the Cowboy. Part of me says, go for it. You deserve it. The other part says, this could get even messier than me and Diego. Heartbreak. Career issues. There’s so few of us that do what you do. You can’t let your personal life mess up what you’ve built.”

“I know. I like him despite myself.”

“Been there, done that.”

“How’d it work out?”

“Not well. A story for another time though.”

“Well, that’s not very encouraging.”

“Maybe it’ll work out for you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Rachel says, not knowing if she really believes what she says.

 

R&R

The clock reads 8:45 am when Raylan arrives, one hand full of a drink carrier. He smiles at her as he approaches her desk. 

“One chai tea latte for the lady,” he says. Then he’s walking over to Tim’s desk. “One black, five sugars.” Raylan places his own drink on his desk before he heads to the locker room. Rachel can admit to herself that she’s impressed that he bothered to pay attention enough to what they like. 

As soon as the door closes, Tim’s at her desk. “What’s with Deputy Do Right bringing us coffee?” Rachel shrugs. “I mean it’s weird on top of the other weirdness.” 

Raylan’s been on time more often than not, actually doing paperwork before the last minute, and listening. He may not agree and may actually do what he wants after he listens. But at least he listens, considers and tells you, “Thanks but no thanks” for the advice, warning, whatever he’s been told. It’s been nice. And now lattes and coffee. 

Tim’s perched on the edge of her desk. He leans in closer to her. “How long do you think we can get him to be our coffee bitch?”

Rachel can’t help but burst out laughing. She’s saved from answering when the locker room door opens and out Raylan walks. Tim pops up from her desk, a huge smirk on his face, as he walks back to his desk. 

“My ears are burning,” Raylan says as he sits. 

“Not everything is about you Raylan.”

“A real shame that it’s not.” Rachel rolls her eyes and Tim snickers. 

Rachel doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that this change happened around the same time they got back from Phelps. She shouldn’t be surprised that Raylan knows how to woo a woman. After all, he was married for years. Unless Winona fell under his spell and he didn’t have to work for it. That could’ve happened. Then again, they were married for a while from what she’s been able to gather. No spell lasts that long as evidenced by the fact that the marriage didn’t end well, that much she knows. Whenever she sees the two of them together, they’re cordial, an undercurrent of dislike just under the surface. She hadn’t pressed him on what Winona had done to never be forgiven, was it Winona doing something on her own or did Raylan drive her to it? 

 

Monday through Wednesday Brown’s on Main is primarily an after-hours bar for the work crowd. Those that can, head there after work for drinks before heading home. Thursday through Saturday it turns into a college bar, though not as rowdy as others in town. It being a late Thursday evening the crowd is young, lounging on the sofas and crowded around the bar watching a basketball game. 

It’s good it’s a Thursday. Rachel’s less likely to run into someone she knows. The Marshals usually stick to Roses not too far from the building when the college kids are more likely be at Brown’s. Roses’ is a pretty no frills kind of place in terms of atmosphere though not when it comes to what’s on tap and what comes out the kitchen though. 

Brown’s has both. It’s the kind of place you can hide out if you want to. She’s seated in the back, nursing her drink, listening to the soft rock playing on the jukebox. It’s not something she’d listen to on her own but she’s nodding her head to the music anyway, the lyrics something she can relate to at the moment. 

“Here she is,” the hostess smiles at Raylan when they stop at Rachel’s table. It’s not the polite smile Rachel got. It’s a “if I need an excuse to visit your table, I will so I can slip you my number” type of smile. She’s got to be half Raylan’s age.

Rachel can’t help it when her eyes roll. 

“One of these days, you’re eyes are going to get stuck like that,” he jokingly warns, as he slides into the booth across from her after the hostess has gone back to her station. 

She doesn’t get to respond for her waiter, Mitchell, comes back to the table. “What can I get you, sir?”

“Four Roses and a water.”

“And for your, Miss?” Mitchell asks as he takes away her bourbon chicken salad. 

“Another one,” Rachel says, pointing to her glass. “Thank you.”

When Mitchell is gone, they sit in silence for a while. She hadn’t invited him to join her. He’d called to ask her something about a case. He could hear the music in the background and asked where she was. She told him, half expecting him to show up by the questions he kept asking. Half hoping, too, to be perfectly honest with herself.

“Joe called me today. He just wanted me to know he’s getting remarried.” Raylan doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s mentioned Joe before, casually then going on to the next topic as if she hadn’t said anything at all. “Like I give a shit.” Mitchell drops off her drink. She smiles and raises it to her lips to take a deep sip.

“How long’s it been?”

“Two years, give or take a few months.”

“He must think you care.”

“He can be full of shit sometimes. This was one of them. He said she’s going to be Mrs. Joe Avery.” She huffs. “He just had to throw that out there. He took it personal when I didn’t take his name. Like how dare I not want to be Mrs. Joe Avery.”

“Some men are like that. Tradition and all that.”

“Mostly ego in his case.” 

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a little confidence.”

“As long as you have something to back it up.”

There’s a challenge there. Raylan can read between the lines, feel the heat in Rachel’s eyes. She’s not on the rebound. This isn’t someone who thought they were over someone and now they realize they aren’t. This is what he’s been waiting for. The low lights, the music, the open invitation to take what she’s willing to give. 

 

She’s got bare feet and bare everything else, except for the black cowboy hat on her head, as she stands in front of the full length mirror in her room. She looks at herself, turns from side to side to check every angle in the light coming in from the hall. She’d gotten up to use the bathroom and couldn’t resist trying the hat on as it lay on her dresser. 

“Don’t you look mighty fine in that hat.” She turns at the sound of his voice to see him propped up on his elbows, hair mussed. His eyes are open and bright, too much for someone that just woke up at 12:47 am, like the sight of her does that to him. And that sends a thrill through her.

She poses, smiles, asks, “You like?”

“Very much so.”

“Me, too. I was thinking of borrowing this one for awhile.” She really wasn’t but why not play a little bit?

“Oh, really?” His left eyebrow arches in that way of his. 

She walks over to the bed, the hat still on her head, makes her way up until he has to lie down again. “Yes, really.”

 

“Is this why you invited me to join you at Brown’s?” They’re lying side by side, pressed together shoulder to thigh. He could leave it be but he can’t. He wants to know. Especially not after the hat thing. 

“I didn’t invite you.” She says it like to admit that she did is some kind of failure on her part even when just moments ago she was fine with the way things had gone. 

“You didn’t tell me to leave when I showed up.” He’s used to these games, him playing them better than anyone else. 

“That’s not the same as inviting you.”

If there’s such a thing as an angry sigh, Raylan does it, moving then to lie on Rachel, pressed against her from chest to torso, her legs bracketing his. “You wanted me to come.” The look on his face tells her he’s not asking to make idle conversation. That she doesn’t need to pretend she didn’t know what she was doing.

It’s been over three months since the night in Phelps. _We can be whatever you want._

“I don’t beg. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted if I have the means to go. Arlo taught me early there’s no use in any of that.”

His words feel like a confession somehow even though it’s common knowledge how Arlo treated him. Maybe it’s his tone of voice – strong but soft– or the look in his eyes – vulnerability. 

“What if I don’t know what I want?” It’s true. She’d made up her mind the minute she saw Raylan behind the hostess that she’d sleep with him. Let him make her forget all about Joe and remind her that someone wants her. Her. Not for his ego. Not to change her. Just her. 

Boy, did he make her forget. Her toes curled. Her hips ached. Her breath caught and then was punched out of her at times. His dirty words in her ear. His magic tongue hitting all the right spots. 

Yes, she wanted him. His body, over hers, under, inside her. It’s another thing to admit she wants all that comes with it. Really admit it and not just flirt. For all of Joe’s faults, he was the kind of guy she was expected to date then marry. Raylan shouldn’t even be on her romantic radar. Yet, he is.

“Well,” he says, his index finger running along the side of her face, down her jaw line to rest upon her lips. “I got time.” Then he’s using the finger to pull her lips apart as he moves to kiss her. 

The kiss… It’s sweet. Slow. Enough to make you want what he’s offering but no pressure to take it. She hates him a little bit. He’s not making anything easy. 

 

She wakes to the smell of food cooking, the smell coming in through the opening in her bedroom door. It’s nearly seven, her alarm set to go off in three minutes. She doesn’t even know why she sets one. Her body always wakes up before it goes off anyway. She freshens up in the bathroom, puts on a robe, before going to the kitchen. 

“Morning.”

“Morning.” He’s smiling. It’s bright and sexy. It’s one of the sexiest things about him. And infuriating at times. She could just strange him when he smiles it after asking for something he knows he shouldn’t. It doesn’t help that he’s shirtless, pants sagging a bit and he’s barefoot. A goddamn fantasy, straight from a romance paperback she can pick up at the supermarket. 

“Breakfast?”

“You must really think I’m an asshole.” 

She’s slides onto one of the stools at the island. “I didn’t think you got up this early.”

“I do when I need to.”

“So work isn’t one of those reasons?” She jokes.

Raylan just shrugs and smiles. “Anyway, I told you before I don’t think you’re an asshole. Besides, if I did, me sleeping with you says as much about you as it does me.”

“Rachel, I was messing with you when I said that. I remember what you said.” He turns his attention back to the eggs in the pan.

“What do you think of me?”

“You’re still very much a lady, respectable, and the like for sleeping with the likes of me if that’s what you’re worried about.” He shuts of the fire and moves the pan to a cool burner. Then he’s moving to take a stand on the other side of the island across from her. He leans on his elbows to put a little less space between them. “I know you can do a lot better than me and glad you’re taking a chance on me.”

“Huh. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well,”

“Especially the ‘taking’ part. Awfully presumption about what I’m going to do about you.”

“Rachel…”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

He sighs, a frustrated sound. He pushes off the island, starts moving around the kitchen to put the food on the plates. She can see his mouth open to start talking a couple of times before he finally talks, the plates being set on the island with a more force than necessary. 

“I like you. Like something about you just pulls me in and I’m right there wanting to see you smile or roll your eyes at me. Or waiting to be impressed at how you handle some piece of shit we have to talk to who thinks they can handle you. Meeting you in Miami and then coming to Lexington and here you are. Shit, I’m the last person to believe in fate, the very last one. And it’s not like I don’t know what the hell to do with a woman who’s not just someone for the night. I’m not really the Lone Ranger and even he had Tonto.” He had been leaning with his back against the counter on the far wall, hands gripping the counter. When he’s done, he changes positions, crossing his arms and then looking down. 

“Despite myself, I like you, too.” She stops, considering her next words carefully. “Let’s see where this goes.” The words feel inadequate especially after what he laid out for her. Then she adds, “The minute I think this will hurt my career…”

His head snaps up then. “I wouldn’t do that.” 

“And this is just between us.”

The smile that spreads across his face makes her glad she’s already sitting down. He comes around the island and puts Rachel’s face in his hands. The kiss is like the one from earlier in the morning. When it’s over, he presses his forehead against hers. 

R&R

He knew he shouldn’t have done it the second his legs started moving, stepping in between Boyd and Rachel. To be fair, he’d wanted to see Boyd, wanted to do it alone. But Art told Rachel to come with, make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. Raylan never planned on doing anything stupid, at least he hadn’t planned on it today so he didn’t need a set of eyes on him. But he wasn’t going to complain too much. Sitting in a car with Rachel isn’t anywhere near the pain Art thinks it to be. 

Boyd has been more of an asshole than usual. And even more long-winded, too. Raylan had forgotten such a thing was even possible. Blessedly too many years between him and Boyd in those mines. He’d said one too many things that made Raylan’s hackles rise. He’d walked a little too close as well. So Raylan stepped. He didn’t need to. Rachel was handling herself just fine, quick with the comebacks to Boyd’s digs covered in pretty language. Boyd smiles so wide when she does like he’s just getting a kick out of the whole thing. 

He turns to look at Rachel. “I think we’re done here.” She doesn’t respond, just spins around and walks out the door. Raylan makes to follow when Boyd stops him.

“That Marshal Brooks,” Boyd begins. Raylan turns slow. Boyd’s stepping back now towards the bar. “She’s a firecracker that one.”

“Boyd,”

“I likes me a firecracker, too, especially one that knows how to shoot. Prayfully, the Good Lord in all his wisdom will see fit not to have Ava ever have to point a gun at me again.”

“Prayfully, she’lI find the good sense to leave this place and never come back. I told her it’s not too late. Free from Bowman. Not in jail.”

Boyd stops smiling then but just as quick he’s smiling again, says, “I hope Marshal Brooks doesn’t have to shoot you. You do have a way with the ladies. Always have.”

Boyd’s always been a perceptive son of a bitch, somehow able to see what others don’t. And he knows more than Raylan would like about Raylan’s life story. And Boyd’s an asshole, in general, and about what he’s figured out about someone. He’s seen Raylan and Rachel coming around here and then asking questions enough to surmise. Today’s not the day, if ever a day should come, to give him any more ammo behind his last few words. Raylan just turns back around to leave hearing Boyd laugh behind him. 

He goes blind for a second, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight after being in the dark for the past twenty minutes. Walking to the driver’s side of the car, he sees Rachel staring out the side window. 

“Sorry,” he says, when they’re about five miles from Boyd’s bar. 

“I accept your apology,” Rachel says but it doesn’t feel that way. They don’t talk the whole ride back. The walk to the office, the ride up the elevator, nothing. 

“Raylan, what did you do to Rachel?” Art asks, walking up to the space between Rachel’s and Raylan’s desks. 

Raylan looks at Rachel but she doesn’t look at him. She stares straight ahead at her computer screen. Raylan sighs, looks up at Art. “I forgot my head is all.”

“That’s exactly why I send a chaperone with you.”

“Never let it be said you don’t know what you’re doing, Art.” Rachel laughs. It’s quick. She catches herself. Raylan counts it as a win and leans back in this chair, his attention on her until Art speaks again. 

“You sassing me Raylan?” 

“No, sir.” Art just stares at him for a few long seconds then goes back his office. 

 

Hours later she still hasn’t talked to him except for work purposes. He doesn’t push until they’re in the elevator together on the way out. Sheila, Art’s assistant, gets on with them but then gets off on the third floor and no one gets on. 

“Remind me to never piss you off if this is what accepting my apology is going to be like.”

Rachel moves quick, reaching out to stop the elevator and then whirls on him. 

“Don’t you ever do that again. You stepped in front of me not as my partner. I’ve been quiet all day trying not to be angry and failing. I get why you did it. But this isn’t going to work if you don’t let me do my job.” 

“Won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

R&R

“Evening, Mrs. Brooks.”

“Evening, Marshal.”

“Mama who’s at the door?” Rachel calls. Raylan can tell she’s in the kitchen from how far away her voice sounds. 

“Marshal Givens,” Ms. Brooks calls back, then says to him, “Come on in.”

Raylan steps inside, careful not to make like he’s made himself comfortable here most nights out of the week. Rachel had given him a key a couple of months into this relationship. She left it on the top of his hat on her way out the door. He’d smiled when he found it and thought Rachel gives as good as she gets when it comes to not talking about feelings. Not that they needed to talk about it really. He wasn’t moving in with her. He just knew she wasn’t a fan of his hotel room and it made sense for him to have a key. 

“Marshal, Rachel and I were just in the middle of getting dinner on the table. You’re invited to join us.” He’s hesitant to answer before Rachel has a say. Part of him would love to. A home cooked meal is nothing to turn down as good as it smells. And to be perfectly honest, a part of him would like to see how Rachel would act, maybe it’d be fun. At least to him. Knowing her, she’d handle it with her usual calm and grace. 

“Raylan what are you doing here?”

“Just came to check up on Nick.”

“He’s doing fine. He’s out back playing some video games.” As if he heard his name, Nick comes in asking about dinner. He beams at Raylan and waves before Rachel’s mom takes him to the kitchen. 

The kitchen is far enough away from the entrance that he and Rachel can talk freely. Raylan lowers his voice any way. “I also wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m good.” She’s standing in front of him, arms crossed. Since this whole thing started, he’s wanted to touch her, as if that would tell him if what she’s saying is true. “Not like it’s the first time I’ve had to shoot somebody.”

“It is the first time you’ve shot family.”

Her eyes take on hard edge. The first time he’d ever been on the receiving end of this look, his respect for her went up tenfold. “Family member by marriage, a shitty one at that, so I’m good.”

“You sure?”

She rolls her eyes this time, hands going to her hips as she says, “How should I feel Raylan? Tell me how I should feel. What’s it like to shoot someone you can’t stand that happens to be in your family?” Her fingers make air quotes around the word family.

He’s not going to take the bait. She’s looking to pick a fight. 

“Your mama asked if I want to stay for dinner. Do you want me to?”

“Do you want to stay?” Raylan just looks at her. “Doesn’t really matter if I do. If I tell my mama you said no, she’ll make you stay. Besides,” Rachel stops and reaches for him. “Haven’t I been telling you, you’re a skinny white boy? Don’t turn down food.” Her hand rubs against his stomach, a peace offering. He’s not the only stubborn one that doesn’t always know how to say sorry. 

He looks down at her hand then back at her face. “Rachel, do you want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

 

By the time dinner is over, Raylan is stuffed and if he didn’t have to leave to keep up appearances sake, he’d walk right into Rachel’s bedroom and fall right into bed. As it is, he stretches his time after dinner to almost two hours hanging out with Nick in the living room. Nick’s showing him how to play some game on his tablet while Rachel and her mama clean up then sit at the table talking. 

A little past nine, Raylan makes his way into the kitchen to say goodnight. “Well ladies, I’m going to call it a night. Thank you for a lovely meal. I can’t remember the last time, if ever since my mama died; I’ve had such a wonderful meal.” He’s all Southern charm, all sincerity. Rachel can cook but doesn’t do it often. 

“Thank you Marshal.” He’d told Rachel’s mom to call him Raylan but she refuses. He thinks she likes saying Marshal. 

“See you tomorrow Raylan.”

“Thursday Rachel.”

She rolls her eyes at him. Art told her to take a couple of days. It’s Monday. “Wednesday. I meant to say Wednesday.” He’ll take what he can get. 

“Sure you did.”

“Bye Raylan.”

“Evening ladies.”

 

When Rachel comes back from saying good night to Nick, her mother is still at the table. 

“You know Marshal Givens has eyes for you.” Ever since her sister died, Mrs. Brooks is not one for beating around the bush. She calls it like she sees it with Rachel and Nick, too afraid of losing them, too, because she wants to hide from the truth.

Rachel’s heart starts to beat faster. She’s been trained to be cool in any scenario. “How do you know that? Nevermind.” Rachel laughs taking her seat again.

Ms. Brooks laughs, too. “You know what I was going to say if I had answered.”

“Southern black mama intuition.”

“Has it failed me since I started listening to it?”

“No ma’am.”

“And you have eyes for him.” She reaches out to take Rachel’s hand in hers. “This isn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done.” Rachel opens her mouth to say something. She doesn’t want to lie to her mother. “But I have faith in you Rachel. You either have this figured out or you will. I mean the only thing true about you thinking of us as this perfect all-American family was, is you. You have a good head on your shoulders.”

She’d told her mother about Raylan when he first came to the office. She vented more often not about the stupid cowboy hat and John Wayne ways. And Art reaming Raylan out but Raylan going on like he hadn’t been scolded. How she didn’t appreciate him taking up all the air in the room sometimes. Then she stopped. Her mama figured things had gotten better. 

“The man’s got mommy issues and daddy issues.”

“You trying to change him? Save him?”

“No and no.”

“Good, good,” Mrs. Brooks says, patting Rachel’s hands before getting up to put their glasses in the sink. 

“You really not worried about me?”

“I figured something must’ve changed for you and him for you to give him a chance. Besides, for a skinny white boy, he’s all that.”

Rachel laughs. “No one says that anymore.”

“Whatever. The man looks good and does have a way about him. And before you say anything, I know that’s not keeping you around even if it was what attracted you to him in the first place. Even if it was, that’s not a knock against you. You’re human.”

Raylan definitely reminds her that she is human, alive. Not that she was dead before she met him. Just that she was going through the motions.

When she and Joe were on their last legs together, no amount of talking or wishing for things to change stopped the inevitable slide they were making to divorce. She said it first but didn’t make it first to the courthouse. He served her at work, in full view of everyone. A low blow but then again Joe had a habit of doing stuff without even thinking. She had a split second of letting her professional façade slip, embarrassed and angry and feeling sorry for herself. 

She didn’t really care if Tim saw it. He was her friend. Art saw it, too. And that hurt. His ‘how are you?’ from then one always sounds like it’s tinged with concern, like he’s always wondering when she’s going to lose it. So she’s been keeping her head down and working harder than before. It‘s exhausting like she didn’t already feel like she had so much to prove. 

That night in Miami was a release. Then back to the way things had been until Ray showed up. 

 

“Don’t you look mighty fine in that hat.” She watched him approach, not the tallest guy in the space, not even the only one wearing a cowboy hat, but he cut a path through the crowd anyway and found her. He’s standing where she can see him in the mirror. His lips are upturned in a smile and his eyes are saying so much about what he thinks of her in this moment. 

It had been his idea to come to the rodeo. “It’s something to do. Maybe Nick’ll enjoy it.” For all their years in the south, she can’t remember ever going to one. Nick said he had never been to one. He spent most of his years in Florence, Alabama where his father grew up. The neighborhood wasn’t the kind of place where you went to the rodeo. 

She doubted Nick would want to go but he surprised her, even asking if he could get a cowboy hat like Marshal Givens. She figured Raylan was the real reason he wanted to go. The day after the drama with his dad, Nick had told her, “I’ve never met a real life cowboy before.”

She’d laughed and said, “I don’t even know if Raylan even knows how to ride a horse.” Later that night, the image of him on a horse figured prominently in her dreams. 

“Marshal!” Nick shouted, running up to him. Nick wraps his arms around Raylan’s waist. Raylan wraps his arm around Nick’s shoulders. 

“Good choice,” Raylan says, gesturing to the hat on Nick’s head. It almost looks like the one Raylan was wearing the day he and Nick met. 

Raylan lifts his eyes to look back at Rachel. “I’ve never started a trend before. I’m not sure how I feel about this one. I kinda like being the only one with the hat.” 

“Don’t worry Lone Ranger. Mine’ll be for off-duty hours only.” She reaches into her wallet to pay for hers and Nick’s. 

“Now I see where Rachel gets her good taste from,” Rachel hears Raylan say behind her. She turns to find her mother smiling at Raylan like if he wasn’t already Rachel’s, Rachel would be in trouble. 

“Why, thank you, Marshal,” Ms. Brooks says, twirling to show off the red cowboy hat she’s had for years. She grew up in Sparta, Tennessee living on her grandparents’ ranch before the ranch was lost to the family. She grew up helping her grandfather take care of the horses. Her mama had told her and her sister that the hat had been a gift from Rachel’s dad in the early days of their courtship. This is the first time Rachel can remember her mother taking it out of its special box that stays at the top of her closet. 

Rachel winds up sitting to the left of Raylan with Nick to his right and her mama sitting to Nick’s right. Nick’s got most of Raylan’s attention, asking questions about this and that. Most of the time, Raylan says he doesn’t know, not being a real life cowboy. Nick seems satisfied enough with the tale of Raylan’s adventure with a horse Arlo stole to get back at somebody. Apparently, that was the only time he got to ride a horse. 

It’s nice. Really nice. Rachel can imagine doing this again, a regular thing. A family thing. Something she’d imagine doing with Joe around the time her mama and Nick made the three hour move to Lexington from Hendersonville after her mama retired. By the time they got settled, Joe had served her with divorce papers. They were divorced in six months. He got the house, buying out her share. She used the money to buy her own place. 

 

Nobody does know. It helps that Raylan still keeps flirting with just about every women he sees. There are rumors going around now that he’s slept with another witness. Or that he’s overcompensating for something. Those rumors are her favorite. 

They don’t date like normal people. Between working crazy hours and Lexington being like a small town sometimes, they spend most of their time at her place, which she has to keep meticulous less Tim spot something of Raylan’s.

Correction. Nobody knows it’s Raylan. Tim knows she’s seeing someone. Her ex-husband to be precise.

“Joe broke your heart Rach.” Tim's lying on her sofa. He’s been like that for the last three hours. 

“Joe’s a good guy,” she defends. Overall, a good guy. 

“Not to me. That asshole broke your heart.” He’s sitting up now, looking at her. He looks disappointed. That hurts. 

“Good boys break hearts just like bad boys. They’re just nicer about it.”

“So Joe was nice about it? He sent you flowers or something after he served you at work? He apologize?”

“He did apologize. We talked.” 

Tim’s silent, that look on his face that means he’s thinking. “So he said some magic words to make it okay for you guys to be sleeping together again?”

“It’s easy. Just sex.” He scrunches up his face and flops back down on the couch. 

“That’s what prostitutes are for.” A pillow hits him right in the face.

“It’s free, too.”

He raises his bottle of beer as if to say, point taken. He takes a slip. “Well, this time though, I’m going to shoot him if he hurts you again. You promised last time.”

She nearly chokes on her beer laughing. “I didn’t promise.”

“Okay, maybe that was a promise I made to myself. I could’ve sworn we talked about this. Doesn’t really matter, I’ll do it. ”

“Tim, don’t worry.”

They talk until Tim’s asleep, his last answer to her being nothing but mumbling. She takes the beer he tucked under this arm and covers him with a blanket. She feels guilty for lying. It’s better this way. Otherwise, Tim will keep investigating. Then he’d kill Raylan. That’s something Art really doesn’t need. 

R&R

She wants to reach out, comfort him in this moment but she knows she can’t. She wants to lash out, too, say, “You mean to tell me that asshole thought he was shooting Raylan to protect Boyd?” She can’t do that either and it hurts. Not just because it’ll be unprofessional but because her voice would give everything away. So she just stands there feeling like there’s nothing she can do. 

“Raylan give me your gun.” She can’t see Raylan’s face but knows the look of incredulity that’s there. Art sighs, his voice a little less forceful. “I’m not afraid you’ll shoot yourself over Arlo. I don’t want you to shoot anyone else.” Raylan must open his mouth to speak because Art raises a hand. “Save it. Give it me then go home and stay there.” Raylan’s hands go to his hips and he turns his head a little to side as if he’s really contemplating his options. 

He places the gun in Art’s hand, letting his hand linger over it before turning to leave the scene. He doesn’t look at anyone before he goes. Rachel watches him walk to his car, wanting to follow. “Tim make sure he gets home and stays there. I’ll send someone to relieve you.” Tim nods at Art, gives Rachel a quick look then turns to follow Raylan. When it’s just her and Art left, he wearily tells her to go home, too.

She wants to protest, say she can be of some use. She’s not going to be able to sleep much if at all. 

“I mean it Rachel,” Art says. She can tell by his tone that he doesn’t appreciate having to tell her twice. She nods her head in recognition, then makes her way to her car. Her phone feels like a heavy weight in her pocket as she drives home. 

 

Sleep is elusive for what seems like the longest time just like she thought. She sleeps for a couple of hours. Around five she gets up and calls her mother. Three hours later, just as she’s making her way out the door, Art calls and tells her to go relieve Tim. 

When Tim sees her pulling into the parking lot, he gets out then leans against the car. She pulls up next to him, gets out and mirrors his position on her car. 

“He give you any trouble?”

“No. The light’s been on all night. I don’t think he slept. Or he passed out drunk before he could turn it off.”

“I know you didn’t sleep. How you feeling?”

“Over twenty-four hours and no sleep is nothing.”

“That’s right. I forgot Mr.-I-don’t-need-sleep-or-to-use-the-bathroom-because-I’m-a-Ranger-fuck-the-Navy-Seals.”

“Damn right. Have those particular skill sets not come in handy on occasion?”

“Yes, they have.”

“Besides Art needs some reason to keep me around with you and Raylan.”

Rachel laughs. “I’m sure there are other reasons.”

“Yeah. I shut up when he tells me to.”

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Nothing more is said for a few moments, both of their eyes drifting to the Raylan’s door. 

“You going to go in?” Rachel’s eyes snap back to Tim’s. “He might have another gun. He definitely wouldn’t shoot you.”

Rachel huffs a laugh, relieved that he still doesn’t know about her and Raylan. “Get some sleep.”

“Will do.”

Rachel watches Tim drive off before she approaches Raylan’s door. She knocks. No answer. She tries the knob and finds the door is unlocked. She knocks again, announcing herself before turning the handle. He’s there sitting in one of the room’s chairs, elbows on his knees, chin resting on his clasped hands. The sunlight spills inside making the room that much brighter, the dust flitting in the air. She doesn’t enter the room, just stands in the doorway. 

“Raylan,”

“You want kids Rachel?”

“What?” That’s the very last question she ever expected to come out of his mouth and definitely not right at this moment. 

“Kids? You want kids?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to them in an ideal world. I live in no such world so no. I like, love my job.”

He leans back in the chair, stretches out his legs. The sunlight cuts across his boots. “I’ve been racking my brain all night why Arlo didn’t just leave when he found out my mama was pregnant. He told me in so many ways since the day I was born he didn’t want me. Like I had I something to do with my own conception. Like I would’ve chosen his sorry ass for a daddy.” There’s half bottle of whiskey on the table next to him. No glass in sight. 

“You drink any of that while you were up last night?” Rachel asks, leaning against the door’s frame. 

“Does it seem like it?”

“Can’t tell that’s why I’m asking. You have every reason to be passed out drunk on the floor.”

“Unlike the toilet seat when I moved in, the carpet hasn’t been sanitized for my protection. Even drunk, I wouldn’t lie down on it.”

“Even drunk, huh?”

“Even drunk. Tim still out there?”

“No. I’m his replacement.”

“Good. I didn’t feel like giving him the slip today. He’s done told me what the chase does to him.” Whatever it is he was told must be amusing to him because she can see a small smile spread across his face. 

It makes her smile, too. “Do tell. He’s never shared that particular tidbit about himself.”

“Nuh, uh. I’ll let him tell you.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Just make sure I’m in the room, okay?”

“I’ll make that deal if you come with me.”

Raylan’s eyes finally meet hers. “I’m pretty sure Art said, ‘Rachel, make sure he stays put.’”

“Well, I told him a certain Mrs. Brooks was cooking up a storm and wanted ‘that skinny but handsome Marshal to eat’.”

“Oh.”

“And I promised I’d bring him one of her pies.”

“So she must really be cooking.”

“I called her this morning. I told her what happened. So she said she’d come over and cook because no matter what happens, it’s nothing a bunch of food and sweet tea can’t help you through.”

“What about Nick.”

“He staying over at a friend’s so she was free. Retirement has its perks.”

His eyes drift back to whatever he had been looking at before. She doesn’t know what he has to consider but he takes his time thinking. “Alrighty then.”

 

By the time they get to Rachel’s, her mom is gone, a note left on the table telling Raylan ‘sorry’ and ‘enjoy’. He took so long getting ready she thought he might’ve given her the slip. 

They eat in front of the TV watching some old movie. She doesn’t know how much time passes before Raylan is sliding down the couch, his head falling to rest on her shoulder. She rests her cheek against his head, runs her fingers through his hair. 

“You should go to bed.”

“I like this just fine.”

 

Two days later and Raylan insists on going back to work. 

By the time Rachel enters the building, she expects Raylan to be on the elevator on her way up to the fifth floor. Instead, he’s standing at the elevator bank with Winona, her back to Rachel. 

His eyes cut her way for a split second before going back to Winona’s face. 

She knows Winona professionally mostly. About half of the local cases that the Marshal’s office gets go before Judge Reardon, who Winona works for as a court reporter. She’s done it as long as Rachel’s been at the Lexington Field Office. Judge Reardon’s preference for pretty women who wear skirts is well known. He’s able to get away with it because he’s from old Lexington money and he’s a fair judge. Good at his job. It pays to be on his good side and in good with his staff. Winona and Lynn, his secretary, have provided valuable insider information on Judge Reardon’s moods when AUSAs have had to request warrants and the like. 

She and Winona have even interacted socially on a few occasions, most at the Judge’s Christmas and Christmas in July parties. Mrs. Reardon loves Christmas that much. 

Once she’s at the elevators, he breaks the conversation. “Morning, Rachel.”

“Good morning, Raylan.” She can see Winona’s face now. There’s a strained look on her face, her body language projecting worry. Rachel can’t help but ask, “Are you okay Winona?”

Her smile is strained when she says, “Yes. Thank you.”

Rachel returns the smile. “Well, have a good day. See you upstairs Raylan.”

 

When Raylan's late, it’s usually five, ten minutes. Just enough to work Art’s nerves if the look on his face when Art yells at him for it are any indication. Twenty minutes after Rachel gets in her seat, Raylan enters the office, an unreadable look on his face. 

“Raylan here yet?” Art yells. 

Raylan’s fingers go immediately to the bridge of his nose, his hat just having been laid on his desk. He seems to be taking a breath, counting to ten, not something she’s ever seen him do. When done, he makes his way into Art’s office. 

Art has had his office blinds closed since mid-day the day before yesterday. It happened right in the middle of his meeting with AUSA Vasquez on the Winzowski case. Art’s been silently fuming ever since. 

“You alright Raylan?” she asks, once he’s seated at his desk chair. 

“No, but what you going to do?”

“What did Art want?”

“Wanted to lay his eyes on me himself, make sure I’m alright. Then he told me to take my ass home even though he knows I won’t listen. Thanks for telling him I was coming in by the way.” He narrows his eyes at her on that last part. “Also, Arlo has a hearing today.” He says it like it’s of no great concern, turning to his computer, looking through files on his desk. 

 

A rain storm left Lexington uncharacteristically cool after a summer rain. Usually the air is muggy after, unbearable at times. Rachel’s yard is plain, nothing to look at but the grass and the fence. It’s almost sunset, the sky turning from blue to orange slowly. Rachel and Raylan sit looking at it in red Adirondack chairs. She had to have them when she saw them. They’re the only pop of color against the white house with black trim. 

“Winona,” Raylan starts, turning to look at Rachel. He hadn’t mentioned what she wanted this morning. Rachel didn’t ask. “She just wanted to say she was sorry about what happened to Arlo. She called a few times. She got worried when all the calls went to voicemail. She said she even went by my room to check on me.” He stops to take a sip of the drink in his hand. “I don’t know why she would be sorry. She once told me I am the angriest man she ever met. No secret there as to the cause of that.” 

He’s turned back to look out over the yard when he stopped talking. “That’s the most you’ve said about Winona to me.”

“Don’t figure you want me to talk about our marriage.”

“No considering she seems to be one of the main reasons why you didn’t want to come back to Lexington. You two don’t seem to like each other much.”

“Like I said before, not much on forgiving. Not even a little.”

“Nice of her to care though,” Rachel says, resting her head against his shoulder. “She can’t be all bad.”

“Bad enough.”

 

When it rains on your wedding day, it’s supposed to be good luck. She wonders what it means when the sun is shining, the day as bright as anything, with just blue up above when someone is being put in the ground. 

The service for Tom was long, a little over three hours. The funeral for her Uncle Bill, her father’s brother, had been just as long. She overheard her mother tell one of her girlfriends, they were praying Bill into heaven. Even as a child she knew Uncle Bill had issues. Rachel didn’t know Tom well but she’s pretty sure that’s not the reason for all the people that got up there to share about Tom. He is universally loved and respected and one of the last people that should’ve died at the hands of someone like Arlo Givens. 

The burial isn’t long at all. Forty-five minutes including lowering Tom’s casket into the ground. Art and Tim took off soon after paying their respects to Tom’s widow and two children. Raylan couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the grave as mourners paid their last respects, as his widow and children knelt by the hole in the ground until relatives ushered them away. He stood there as gravediggers threw dirt filling the hole back up. Rachel stood with him with her hand in his.

R&R

Art drops the papers he’d come into his office with on his desk. “Take a look,” he says to Rachel and Raylan. 

Rayland picks up a set and glances at them. “Phone records?” Raylan looks up to ask even though he knows what exactly he’s holding. 

“Yes. Nicky Augustine’s. Theo Tonin’s. Yours. Very interesting reading.”

After a while, Rachel drops the papers. He’s never seen her this angry. It’s the kind of angry that doesn’t result in yelling, hitting things, slammed doors. It’s beyond that. The quiet kind. There’s a darkness in her eyes, the tight line of her mouth, makes him worried. 

She gets up and says, “I gotta go Art.”

“Sit down. I need to talk to you,” Art says.

Usually, Rachel obeys. He can see the fight in her to listen. She stands her ground. “Please.” It’s crack at the end of the word that has Raylan up and out of his seat.

“Sit,” Art orders without even looking at Raylan. “You, go. We’ll talk later.” It’s not until Raylan hears the main doors close does he sit back down. 

He’s looking at Art now, can see the wheels turning in his head. “God damn it Raylan. You’re sleeping with her. I should castrate you my damn self. And her?” He’s pointing in the direction of Rachel’s desk. “I’d commit her. ‘Cuz she’s got to be out of her damn mind, damn mind, to be sleeping with the likes of you.” He’s yanks open the bottom left desk drawer hiding the bourbon. He only slams the glass down hard. He’s not going to break the bottle holding the good stuff. “Get the fuck out.”

Raylan just sits there, looking at Art, taking it. He’s disappointed that Art is to mad to even yell at him some more. 

The second Art said whose phone records he had Raylan knew he was going to have to answer for a lot of things. “I love her Art. I’m in love with her.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud even though he’s known for a while now. He’s been carrying it around, trying to stop being such a chicken shit and say it to her and not in the heat of the moment or its afterglow when one can be forgiven for saying stuff like that and maybe not meaning it. He wants her to know he means it. He wasn’t expecting for Art to be the first to know. 

“Well, shit.” Art downs the drink. “Well, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” He leans back in his chair. “Is such a thing possible?” 

Raylan doesn’t respond right away. He’s looking in Art’s direction now, not at him, eyes having focused on something else. He finally responds with “I was married before.”

“There are times when I think I hate you Raylan. This is one of those times.” 

Raylan huffs a laugh, a quick quirk of his lips then a look Art’s never seen before on Raylan. Contrition. _Well damn, this son of bitch is telling the truth_. 

The room falls silent. Art drinking another drink he’s made for himself and purposefully not looking at Raylan. Raylan's sitting and not looking at Art. It’s like they forget the other is still there. 

“When I saw those phone records, all those calls between you and her, I was hoping it wasn’t what I thought.”

“Sorry.”

“Save it. She's the best marshal I've got,” Art says, quietly like Raylan wasn’t meant to hear. 

“You realize I'm still sitting right here?” Raylan asks. 

“I do.”

“And that you’ve said this to me before.”

“Well, apparently, you need reminding.”

“She’s never not been your best agent since I came here. She’s not going to stop being your best agent now. Rachel’s not going to let that happen.”

“Yeah, we’ll see. Now tell me these phone calls from Nicky and to Theo aren’t what I think they are.”

 

“Rachel, in my office.” Art barely waits for her to shut the door. It’s not really necessary though, them being the only two left. Habit. “I know about you and Raylan obviously.” Rachel doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. “Raylan and I talked.” 

Rachel makes a face. “I’m going to kill him.”

“He only said some things after I told him I’d figured it out. The phone records. Then you left out of here the other night like you just found out something you shouldn’t.” He’s sitting behind his desk now, leaning back in the chair. 

“What do you want me to say?”

“I really don’t know.”

“We met way before he came here. Miami. Nothing serious. I never thought I’d see him again. We didn’t know what the other was a Marshal. He was here awhile before anything started up again.” She takes a deep breath and a seat. “You thought I was smarter than that.” She can’t help if her voice dips, the last words coming out low and slow. 

Art’s shaking his head, sitting forward in his chair, putting his arms on his desk. “Yes. No. Shit. I’ve known Raylan a long time. I can’t shake him loose. Can’t stop caring when he fucks up. A lot.” She laughs, a feeling of relief flooding her body. “So if I can’t do that, how can I expect the women who seem drawn to him do it?”

“I’m not drawn to him like, like …” She doesn’t know what to say. “I’m not…” 

“I’m not trying to offend you Rachel. I’m surprised by this thing between you two. Still, I think I know you well enough to know you’re no fool.”

“I’m sorry if I disappointed you.”

“Raylan hasn’t been as much as a pain in my ass as he could’ve been. Maybe you had something to do with that?” His lips are turned up in a small smile. Rachel takes it. He didn’t say he’s not disappointed. And he didn’t say he is. 

Rachel gives him a small smile back. “Maybe.” She pauses a moment. “What did Raylan tell you?” She wants to know what he said about them, what he said about Nicky and Theo.

Art shakes his head. “Nope,” he says. “Let Raylan be the one to tell you what he told me about the two of you.” She doesn’t tell him that she hasn’t spoken to since she left out that night. It’s not for a lack of trying on his part. Stopping by. Talking through the door. Calling. Leaving messages that are nothing but silence until she hears the line go dead. 

“And Nicky and Theo?”

“It’s going to be handled.”

She can’t read the expression on his face. She’d hate to be in his position. She trusts Art so she doesn’t worry about the details. 

 

Rachel doesn’t talk to him except for work purposes. And every time she has to wonder just when is Art going to deal with what Raylan did. He’s told her nothing since he told her it’d be handled.

They had been so good at keeping their relationship under wraps not even Tim, who is annoyingly observant about everything, knew. 

“Why is Rachel mad at you?” He perches himself on the edge of Rachel’s desk, arms crossed, facing Raylan. 

“Disagreement on a case.” Raylan keeps looking through the file on his desk. He wasn’t really studying it, his eyes going over the same page over and over. 

“What case?”

Raylan looks up at him. “Ask Art.”

“You too busy to tell me?”

Raylan holds up the file. “Looks that way.”

Tim smiles that smile that says he doesn’t like you and this isn’t over. It’s usually reserved for the idiots they have to put up with on a regular basis. 

 

He figured having Rachel as boss would be tricky because they’d still be sleeping with each other like it had been the first time Art was out. It was weird mostly because Rachel didn’t spend much time with him. A little paranoid if you ask him about boss sleeping with an employee. He didn’t figure if she got the chance again, she’d act like he and her never happened. The edge he’s been bumping up against is sharper than it used to be. Like everything he does is just not right even if in the end they get what they want. 

The door swinging open startles Rachel out of her thoughts. When she sees who it is, her face smooths into the expression she’s come to employ when she’s around him. “What do you want?” She doesn’t figure ignoring him will work for her this time around. She’s manages to successfully avoid him for the most part. Even she knows that wasn’t destined to last forever. 

“To talk. I can’t ever get you alone to do it. So here’s my chance.” He doesn’t wait for an offer for a seat, an offer he knows would never come. She doesn’t tell him to get out though so that counts for something. 

“Boyd told me what you did. You set up Nicky Augustine.”

Rachel hadn’t believed Boyd at first. She wondered if Boyd was manipulating her, exploiting her state of mind at the time. He’d shown up in the bullpen, walking in like the truth was burning a hole in him. Missing was a sense of glee, pleasure though. She and Tim and a few others were the only ones around. She was temporarily in charge while Art was out after an attempt on his life the Marshals weren’t too sure didn’t have something to with Boyd. Everyone looked at Boyd like they only needed the barest of reasons to take a shot at him as they looked to her. She told Boyd to wait in Art’s office. Rachel’s eyes had met Tim’s before she closed the door. 

_Before he told her what brought him, whatever it was, it wasn’t urgent enough for him to skip the pleasantries, saying the simplest thing the longest way possible. Not for the first time she wondered who he modeled himself after, some stranger passing through the holler, who young Boyd took a liking to as far as how the stranger talked. Or did some TV show he grew up watching have a character that talked like that. Or was it simply, a way to rise above the holler the simplest way possible._

_Rachel didn’t take bait. After ten minutes, he grew tired and launched into why he had come. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he knew something she didn’t._

_She remembers the look on his face, when she said, “Thank you Mr. Crowder for coming all this way to share that bit of information. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.” At the same time she got up from her seat, Tim opened the door to Art’s office._

_“Done?” he asked Rachel, his eyes trained on Boyd’s._

_“Yes. Tim, please escort Mr. Crowder here to his vehicle.”_

_“I do believe Ms. Brooks I know the way.”_

_“I’m sure you do Mr. Crowder. I just want to make sure you make it there in one piece. It’s a wonder you made it up here unscathed.”_

_“Another thing I can assure you of is my ability to handle myself.”_

_“Bless your heart, I’m sure you can. Goodbye Mr. Crowder.”_

_“I see why Raylan likes you so much. Good evening Ms. Brooks.” He left Art’s office, hands in his coat pockets and head held high. Like mission accomplished._

_It was a good fifteen minutes before Tim came back. He plopped onto the couch in Art’s office._

_“Did you watch him drive off?’_

_“Of course. And I took a few minutes to think about the pros and cons of following him and then shooting him.”_

_“Tim.”_

_“It’d only be a flesh wound.” Rachel huffs a laugh. “What? Raylan shot him.”_

_“Protecting Ava.”_

_“I think Bowman would disagree that Ava needed protecting.”_

_“You think Raylan slept with her?”_

_“He told me he didn’t.”_

_“Everyone around here thinks he did. He’s the reason why the case was dropped against her.”_

_“I think the fact that Bowman was a piece of shit might have more to do with that,” Tim asserts. “I don’t think he slept with her. Going courtin’ in Harlan? I think he’s rather eat his hat.” Rachel bursts out laughing. “Anyway, if I had followed Boyd and shot him, I can say I was protecting you.”_

_“I think the fact that I’m sitting here shows I can protect myself.”_

_“By the time anyone started asking questions, I would’ve come up with a better story.” He smiles. “How you holding up?”_

_“Fine. This is only temporary. I don’t plan on being in this position permanently for a few more years and not because Art died in the line of duty.”_

_“If I had a drink, I say, ‘Let’s drink to that.’” He makes like he getting up to leave but stops. “What was that shit about Raylan liking you much?”_

_Rachel shrugs. “That fool just wanted to get under my skin.”_

_“He got under mine. What’d he want?”_

_“I never figured Boyd for one to try and make a deal.”_

_“Really?” She shakes her head. “You going to make a deal?”_

_“No. It’s information we already know. I told him to come back with something we can work with.”_

_“Okay. Well,” he rises from the couch. “I’ll be at my desk.”_

_“Go home.”_

_“I will when you do.”_

_“Tim.”_

_“Rachel.”_

_“Fine.”_

At the time, she’d told herself she didn’t want to tell Tim what Boyd had said until she was sure. Raylan didn’t need another black eye from a fellow Marshal, at least not at that point.

“Nicky Augustine’s back in Detroit.”

“He hasn’t been heard from in months. The locals think he’s dead.”

“That’s a real possibility given what he does for a living. It’s a wonder he’d lived as long as he did. He isn’t very smart.”

“You do know what side of the law you are on?”

“I made a phone call. I had my reasons.” 

Rachel leans back in her seat, even props her feet up on her desk. “Is that what you told Art? Pray tell, what reason could you possibly have had to do what you did?”

He doesn’t start right away, just stares at her, his face blank of any discernible expression. 

_"These animals out here--they think they can get over on me--they'll tear me to pieces. You wanna know where I'm headed? I'm headed to Detroit: to kill Theo's pasty little pussy of a son, but I'll be back because I’m tired of you fucking with me Raylan. All the time. So I’m done. You’re done. I'm gonna kill those close to you. I'm gonna kill them. Some hero already took care of Arlo for me headed right for your little girlfriend. Then your buddy Tim. Art. Just down the line. And there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it!”_

“Nicky Augustine said he was going to kill you.” There’s no mistaking the steel in his voice, like he be damned if he let something like that happen.

It’s one fluid movement to bring her feet are off the desk and to sit up straight, his answer like a splash of cold water in the face. “Raylan…”

“No. You don’t get to tell me…”

“You could have reported the threat Raylan.” She spits the words at him, her surprise having been turned to anger. 

He huffs, stands to lean on the desk. “Bullshit. You under surveillance twenty-four hours, seven days a week for God knows how long? Not being able to do your job? Probably would’ve had to put your mom and Nick, too, under watch. No. You would’ve hated that. Hated me. ”

“Better than the alternative.”

“Everybody would have to know why. What did you tell me? The minute this affects your career.”

He’s right. Still. “It wasn’t right.”

“Damn it, Rachel!” He’s never been loud with her before. She’s never been on the receiving end of his anger. He’d pushes off the desk, starts pacing like he’s trying to get himself under control. “I made a fucking phone call. That’s it. If Nicky Augustine is no longer breathing that fine Detroit air then all my phone call did, if anything at all, was get him down that road to hell he was already on a little bit faster. I’m not sorry.” His words hang between them. He’s always operated by his own set of rules. “If it makes you feel any better, he wasn’t just coming for you. Anyone I’m close to was in his cross hairs. So that leaves you, Art and Tim.”

“If you’re looking for me to say you did the right thing, I’m not.”

“Rachel...” He starts. 

“You told Art this and you’re still on the job.” Raylan opens his mouth to speak but Rachel cuts him off with, “I guess you can get away with murder.”

She hadn’t really meant to say that. It was low. She can tell it cuts him to the quick as the saying goes. He doesn’t say anything though he wants to, she can tell. He stares at her a minute longer and then leaves. 

 

It’s a college bar. The true definition of one. It’s a step up from the motel Raylan had been staying in for the longest. It’s not like Tim can judge. His place is marginally better, justifying not spending a ton on an apartment since he mostly just sleeps there, occasionally eats there. Besides any place closer to work would be too much money to fork over every month just because the place is near the university. It’s ridiculous how much the rents are near UK.

Raylan’s at the bar talking to the bartender, a blonde with dark roots and eyes that have seen it all. Tim’s seen this scene before only Raylan doesn’t look the least bit interested and the blonde looks like she’s consoling Raylan. 

“Raylan, how you doing buddy?” It’s not a tone he’s ever used before with Raylan and it feels strange. 

Raylan looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Whacha you want Tim?”

“Well, when you didn’t show up for work, boss lady sent me to find you.”

“You her errand boy or something?”

Tim is taken aback a minute. “You get one of those.” Raylan huffs a laugh. The bartender looks amused. “Can I get a coke?”

“You can get whatever you like.”

“Lindsey, stop,” Raylan says with a sour look on his face. 

“Shut up Raylan,” Lindsey orders. Tim likes her immediately. 

“Lindsey, may I call you Lindsey?”

“You can call me whatever you like.” 

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Raylan murmurs before downing the last of his drink. 

“You do before you make it to the bathroom and you’re cleaning it up. You were saying, Tim. I can call you Tim, right?” She leans on the bar and smiles at him. 

“I was going to say I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen one Mr. Raylan Givens not return the affection of a beautiful woman.”

“It’s because some other woman’s got his affection and done thrown it away.”

“Raylan Givens, heartbroken? I do declare this is a day for the history books.”

“I hate you both.”

They both laugh. 

“How many has he had?”

“You can ask me yourself, Tim.”

“How many have you had?”

“None ya damn business.”

Lindsey tells Tim, “I’ve been trying to get him to go upstairs for the last ten minutes.” Raylan just shoots her look reminiscent of a small child. Lindsey leans closer to Tim. “College kids going to be streaming in here soon and....”

Time interrupts. “It’s three thirty on a Thursday.”

“The weekend starts early for the kids around here.”

“Okay, then. Come on Raylan, let’s get you upstairs.”

“You’re not my daddy.”

Tim doesn’t respond, just takes Raylan’s glass and gives it to Lindsey, waits for Raylan to move. Tim waits him out, wonders what Raylan’s thinking. Raylan doesn’t look at him, just stares at the bar top. He doesn’t say anything before he gets up.

Once in his bedroom, Raylan pulls off his boots then lies down on the bed on his back. _What would Rachel do even if she’s mad at him?_ Tim grabs the trashcan from the bathroom, a cup of water and finds a bottle of Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. He places all by the side of the bed. 

“Don’t let it be said I never did anything for you,” Tim tells Raylan, keeping his tone light. Raylan looks sad as he stares up at the ceiling. He’s never seen that before. Weird. “You gonna be okay?”

“Tell boss lady I’ll be in tomorrow.” Then he closes his eyes. 

Back downstairs, Tim slides onto Raylan’s empty stool. Lindsey comes over to him with a fresh coke. “Did he mention who this lady is that’s got him like this?”

“She’s beautiful. Too good for him. They work together. Her name’s Rae with an e.”

“You sure?”

“Sure as the blue sky.”

“Can you add some rum to go with this?”

 

Rachel hadn’t sent him. Tim didn’t miss the looks she kept giving Raylan’s empty desk. When he’d asked where Raylan was, all she said was, “He’s got some days to use.” The way she said it made it sound like he hadn’t gotten permission to take the time. Tim knew Rachel could handle things just like she had before even if it was only for a few days. Still, he wasn’t going to let Raylan fuck up Rachel’s time in Art’s chair. So he took the rest of the afternoon off. He had the time, too. 

By the time he leaves Lindsey it’s close to five. She was right; the college crowd came in not long after he got Raylan upstairs, the place going from quiet to having to talk a little bit louder to have a conversation. Not that she could talk much. He just watched her and thought about what he’d learned. 

Tim steps outside, the sun not about to set for another couple of hours. “Hey, you got dinner plans?”

“I was just going to grab something and come back to the office.”

“I’ll meet you at your place. Thai.”

“Can’t.”

“Come in early.”

“Tim.”

“Rachel.”

 

An hour later and half later, he’s at Rachel’s, laying out their favorites on her kitchen table. Rachel comes into the kitchen, freshly showered, hair up and face clean. She smiles at him, kisses him on the cheek in thanks before getting the plates. He watches her and thinks she is beautiful and too good for Raylan. _What the hell was she thinking?_

“What?” Rachel asks, the smile she had been wearing, having been replaced with a look of concern.

Tim supposes his face wasn’t as neutral as he would’ve liked. “Why does Raylan get to call you Rae?”

She hands him a plate before going to the food. “He doesn’t call me that anymore.” He didn’t really call her that much after Miami. 

“Why did he get to call you it then?”

“Because, he and I,” she pauses. She hates the words boyfriend and girlfriend at her age. She feels childish in using those words in describing grown folks relationships. “We were seeing each other.”

“I saw you, too. I’m looking at you now.”

“You know what I mean.” She still hasn’t looked at him and he hasn’t made a move to get any food. 

“Break it down Barney style.”

“For fucks sake, Tim.”

“For fucks sake, Rachel. Raylan. Fucking Raylan!” Rachel can’t help it. She laughs. Tim just rolls his eyes despite his anger and starts filling his plate. 

“He’s more than what he seems.”

“He could be Mother Teresa in drag and it’ll still be a bad idea.”

“It was fine. More than fine.”

“Except for the lying.” Rachel lets his words hang in the air as they finish fixing their plates. 

When they are done, they make their way to the living room. Rachel sits her plate down in front of the armchair. She goes to the couch and sits next to Tim. She takes one of his hands in hers. 

He and Lydia are her best friends. She hadn’t met many people she’d call friends when she moved to Lexington. She’d been in Lexington a year before he showed up. The fact that he’d been a Ranger, had been to Iraq and Afghanistan, had most of the office folk wondering if the Marshal’s were that hard up for bodies that they’d take a chance on this guy. He had to have PTSD was all the whispers going around the office. Everyone else in the office figured it’d only be a matter of time before something happened to Tim or them because of him. She and him bonded over being the ‘only ones at the office’, the only African-American and the only vet of recent conflicts, the ones that felt like they had to be twice as good, proving themselves every day. 

“I’m sorry. I had my reasons.”

“I hope you didn’t think I would think less of you.”

“At times, I thought less of me.”

“Nobody’s perfect.” He kisses her cheek. 

She goes to her chair and starts to eat after turning on the TV, settling on reruns of CIS, original recipe as they like to call it. 

An episode and a half later, Rachel asks, “How did you find out about us anyway?”

Tim’s in his usual position when he’s at her place, stretched out on the couch. He has to turn to the side to look at her. “I went to see Raylan.”

“Why?”

“I could tell you were worried, kept looking at his desk. I thought you were worried he’d do something stupid on your watch.”

“Thanks.”

“He was at the bar under his place. Lindsey…”

“Who’s Lindsey?” Rachel asks. 

Tim’s kind of enough to ignore why she’d ask such a question. “The bartender. She was talking to him, trying to get him to go upstairs to sleep it off.”

“So Raylan made a drunken confession?”

“Not to me. He told Lindsey about being heartbroken over the beautiful Rae that’s too good for him. And how he had fucked it all up by doing the right thing.” Rachel sits back in the chair at Tim’s words. 

“What’s the right thing?” Rachel hesitated. "If it's too personal…”

“It's not that." She takes a deep breath. “Raylan had something to do with Nicky Augustine's current whereabouts unknown status.”

“What?”

“That night when Boyd came to the office, he told me about it.”

“You believe him?”

“I didn't at first. Then Art provided some proof. Then Raylan said he made a call.”

“Why?”

“Nicky threatened to kill me.”

A look passes over Tim’s face. It’s a look Rachel’s seen before. It means let him be. Tim goes back to lying on his back. Rachel keeps glancing over at him. She can tell he’s not watching the show. The episode finishes before they talk again. “It’s not like Nicky wasn’t already heading that way.”

“Bullshit. We can’t take the law into our own hands. Not like that anyway.”

“You’re talking to a former sniper Rachel.”

“That’s different.”

She can see him shrug his shoulders as if to say maybe not. “What did Raylan say exactly?”

“He made a call.”

“And?”

“And he knew what very well could happen.”

Tim swings his legs down, sits up then turns to fully look at Rachel. “I’m the last one to defend the Lone Ranger most of the time.” Rachel opens her mouth to speak. “Look, I’m not saying he’s right. I’m not saying he’s wrong either. I got orders to kill for the reasons I was told were right. I don’t really know if they were. Raylan didn’t get orders. He made his own call. Right or wrong. It don’t make no never mind. People do crazy shit for people they love.”

Rachel reaches for his beer and smells. “Smells like just beer. Usually takes more than one to have you talking like a southern.”

“Yeah, well. That just popped into my head.” He looks at his watch. “I should go.” He gets up and does his usual cleaning up after them. No trace of dinner in the living room. Food put away in the fridge. Dishes in the dishwasher. 

She walks him to the door. “I meant what I said about people doing crazy shit for people they love.” 

“It wasn’t just me Nicky was after. Raylan said he wanted to kill anyone close to Raylan so Art, you.”

“Well, now that was the wrong thing to say to get me on your side. I’m definitely worth going all dark side for.”

“Definitely,” Rachel agrees, laughing as she says it. When she stops, she gets serious again. "That can't be the answer anytime my life is in danger.”

"True. I don't know what to tell you."

She gives him a hug. “Thanks for dinner and being a better friend than me.”

 

Tim knocks on Raylan’s door. Raylan doesn’t answer. Tim tries the handle and finds it still unlocked from the day before. Raylan lies face down on the bed still in the same clothes.

“Raylan… Raylan...Raylan!”

“What?” he says, barely loud enough for Tim to hear.

“I brought you some coffee and bagels. Thought you might need it.”

He lifts just his head up and looks at Tim, one eye closed, the other squinting. He lifts the food and drinks up so Raylan can see what he’s holding.

“Is this a dream?”

“You dream about me often?” Tim says, smiling way too much for Raylan’s liking. Raylan cusses under this breath. Then he sits up slowly then swings his legs to plant his feet on the floor.

“What do you want?”

“You told me to tell Boss Lady you’d be in. Just want to make sure that happens.”

Raylan turns his head to the side a bit like he’s remembering. “I wasn’t that drunk. I think I can make it without your help.”

“Drunk enough to tell of the woman that done broke your heart.”

Raylan’s head jerks up at that. “Excuse me while I kill myself,” Raylan states before getting up to go to the bathroom. 

The sound of the shower turning on either means Raylan's getting ready or it’s to drown out the sound of him doing himself harm. “You really need to get a chair in here,” Tim calls out, as he walks around to the side of the bed closest to the windows. 

“Don’t get much company,” Raylan answers back. Tim believes it. No way Rachel would be spending any significant amount of time in this place. It’s definitely not a place you bring your significant other to if you want to keep her. 

“Don’t kill yourself while company is here. I think that’s the very definition of not being a good host.”

“No promises.”

It about twenty minutes before the bathroom door opens. When Raylan emerges, he looks at Tim at like he really didn’t expect him to stick around. Tim’s sitting on the side of the bed furthest from the shower with his back to the headboard, coffee and bagel in his hands. “Your stuff’s over there.” He gestures to the items he’d deposited on the side table to Raylan’s right. 

“You mind?” Raylan asks after Tim hasn’t made a move to leave. Raylan’s got a towel around his waist held up with one hand. 

For a second, Tim makes like he plans to stick around while Raylan gets dressed just to fuck with him. “Promise you won’t sneak out the window?” Raylan’s answer is his middle finger sticking straight up.

 

Tim’s standing outside his car finishing the last of his coffee when Raylan finally makes his way out. Raylan stops in front of Tim, squinting against the sunlight. 

“What did I say?” Raylan asks before he takes a sip of his coffee. 

“About?” Tim’s got his arms crossed, sunglasses on, hiding the grin in his eyes. 

“The woman who broke my heart.”

“You really want to know?”

“No, Tim. I’m asking because I really just don’t want to go to work today and am stalling. Making awkward conversation with you is the best way to do that.”

“Not much. I figured it out though after Lindsey told me what you said.”

“Christ.”

“It was all so very cliché. Spilling your guts to your bartender. Really Raylan?”

“I’m so glad this is so amusing.” Raylan’s scowling now. 

“Come on if it was me, you’d be smiling, too.”

“True,” is all Raylan says in response. He makes to walk off, taking a bite of his bagel. 

“I talked to her about it.”

Raylan turns back. “Did you now?”

“And?”

“She didn’t get all the gory details if that’s what you’re worried about.” Raylan just nods. “For what it’s worth, I probably would’ve done the same thing about Nicky Augustine.”

Raylan can’t help the small smile on his lips. “Probably?”

“More than likely.” 

Raylan turns to go to his car, which is parked a few spaces ahead of Tim’s. He stops and asks, “She say anything else?”

“No. That’s all she said before we braided each other’s hair and painted each other’s toe nails.”

“You really are a dick.”

“Can’t have you thinking we’re friends, now can I?”

“Can’t have that.”

R&R

Art comes back to work three weeks after the doctor ordered him to take some time off. Most of his first day back is gone before Art calls Tim and Raylan into his office. 

“Have a seat gentlemen.” Each takes a seat at opposite ends of the sofa flanking the front wall of Art’s office. 

“How were things?”

“Great,” Raylan and Tim say at the same time. 

“Really?”

“You say that like you doubt it.” Raylan asks. 

“Nope. I don’t doubt Rachel’s ability to handle this office. Just,” he leans forward in his chair. “Is there something going on that I need to know about?”

“Nope,” Raylan and Tim say in unison again. 

Art looks at them. Lets them stew for a few minutes. “Back to work then.” Both are nearly out the door when Art stops Raylan. “Raylan, a word,” Art calls out as he rises from his desk. He stops a foot from Raylan. “You know that thing we said we weren’t going to talk about?”

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“Do we need to?”

“No. She’s not out of damn mind anymore.” The way he says it takes Art right back to the moment he realized Rachel wasn’t just a conquest. But unlike that night, he can tell Raylan’s in no mood to spill his guts. Neither was Rachel when he’d asked her how things had gone. 

“Well, alright.”

“That all?”

“Rachel’s going on vacation. She damn well earned it. When she gets back, your two week suspension starts. You would’ve taken it already but can’t have two Marshals out at the same time. Damn Washington won’t give me another body. Anyway, those two weeks are going to be a very restful time.”

“I'm fine.”

“I meant restful for me.”

 

“He’s beautiful,” Rachel exclaims taking Joaquin from Lydia’s arms. She sits down to rock her nephew in her arms. 

“A beautiful screamer,” Lydia says around a yawn as she tucks herself into the opposite end of the couch. 

“I still can’t believe you had a baby.”

“Neither can I. Diego is ridiculous. A little over the top.”

Rachel rolls her eyes, then leans down to whisper in Joaquin’s ear, “You’re mom loves it.”

“I heard that.”

 

The first three days in LA Lydia doesn’t ask and Rachel doesn’t volunteer any information about the Cowboy. You wouldn’t have to be Rachel’s best friend to know she’s heartbroken. Her smile’s dimmer than Lydia’s used to. 

Josie’s the one who breaks the ice as it were. “So what about you Rachel? You going to make your mother a proud abuelita any time soon?”

“Mama,” Diego says.

“What? I’m an old Latina grandmom, I can ask that question.”

“You’re not that old and pretty progressive Det. Ochoa,” Lydia tells her. Josie just rolls her eyes while she rocks Joaquin in her arms. 

“I like being an aunt. Tia Rachel.”

“Mama Rachel sounds better,” Josie fires back. 

“Mama Josie lets go.” Diego’s up out of his chair and ushering his mother inside. 

“What?” Josie says, like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. 

When the sliding door has been closed, Lydia says, “Now you see what I have to put up with and not just at work.”

“That’s what you get,” Rachel says around a laugh. 

“I do recall you telling me to go for it.”

“She’s not so bad. Moms are like that. Doesn’t matter if the person they’re talking to is theirs or not.”

“True. You and the Cowboy ever talk about kids?”

“Once. I told him they weren’t in my future. He seemed fine with that.”

“Seemed? Don’t you think you should ask him?”

“He might think it’s a little weird now seeing we’re not seeing each other anymore. We’re not even talking.”

“I figured.”

“That obvious?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“You take the boy out of Harlan County but you can’t take the Harlan County out of the boy. They have a loose interpretation of the law out there.”

“Bad cop?”

Rachel’s response is immediate. “No.” She knows that much. 

“Then what?”

“The best way to say it would be he did the wrong thing for the right reasons.” Rachel tells her everything. “I mean its right to want to protect the people you care about.”

“Remember my partner, Russell?”

“Yeah. You stopped talking about him like he never existed.”

“He took some photos at crime scene, sold them and some other information to the tabloids. Everyone thought it was me. At first, he let me take the blame for it. When I found out, I hated him for it. Never thought I’d forgive him.”

“What made you?”

“Time. An apology. Looked at it from his point of view. An little introspection. Glass houses and all that. I may not have ever crossed the line at work. But I’ve made bad choices.”

“What Russell did, that’s not the same thing as Raylan.”

“I know. And even seeing it from Russell’s perspective, I probably would’ve made a different call. I’m just saying people make mistakes when they think they’re desperate.”

“Maybe mine was getting involved with Raylan.” 

“Girl, you weren’t desperate.”

“Maybe.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re too sure.”

“I should be. This would probably be easier if I didn’t know how he really felt.” The night he admitted to what she did, she knew when he had made the phone call. 

_“Hello,” she hears Raylan say as he makes his way from the locker room. His steps falter for just a second before he’s moving to his desk. He picks up his hat and jacket and strolls out of the office._

_Five hours and two unanswered phone calls later then he walks into her house. The sound of the door opening catches her attention as she makes her way to the bedroom._

_“Ray…” His name dies on her lips as he stalks toward her. He takes her face in his hands and kisses her, long and hard until she’s pulling at hands to let her breath._

_“You okay?” she breathes more than says._

_He doesn’t answer, just kisses her again then slides his hands down her ass to lift her. They make it to her bedroom. He lays her on the bed then undresses the fastest she’s ever seen him move except to shot._

_“Don’t,” he says when she starts to undress._

_As fast as he was with himself, he’s slow with her, driving her crazy. He has to lavish attention on each piece of flesh revealed, turning places she’d never thought of as erogenous zones into ones._

_She comes hard at the first flick of his tongue on her clit as two fingers move in and out of her. He fingers her through it, pressing kisses to her stomach and thighs. She bucks too much for anything else; probably break his nose if he tries to tongue her down now._

_Rachel starts to come down from the high, distantly aware of him moving off the bed and around the room. She can’t help but close her eyes. They slowly come open as she shivers at the feel of him moving up her body. She immediately wraps her legs around him and presses him close._

_He doesn’t make any moves to enter her. “Raylan, come on. I’m dying here.”_

_“That’s the last thing I want to happen.”_

_She cocks her head to the side. “That’s a strange thing to say.” He doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at her. “What happened today?”_

_“Nothing I wouldn’t do again.”_

_Her response is a low moan as he eases into her in one smooth move. When he finally comes, whispering I love you in her ear, she can be forgiven for crying._

“Rachel, you still with me?”

“What?”

“You zoned out on me.”

“Sorry.” 

“I was saying, if he’s not the man you thought, or if he is, I know you. You have to forgive yourself for falling for him. Then move on.”

 

“Miss me?” Rachel asks Tim’s after her picks up. 

“Always. Good trip?”

“Great trip. I needed it. How were things at the office?”

“You’ve only been on ground for,” Tim looks at his watch. “Three hours. It can wait.”  
Rachel laughs. “You weren’t so eager for news the last time you were out.”

“Well, the last time I was out, things weren’t so crazy when I left.”

“It was fine. Same as you left. Raylan tense. At least now, I know why. Art pissed off. Raylan finally spilled the beans that Art found out about you two and what Raylan did.”

Rachel sighs. “So Raylan was still around?” 

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“He’ll be gone when you get back though.”

“Art?”

“Raylan. Suspension.”

“For how long?”

“A couple of weeks.” Rachel gets lost in thought thinking about the suspension. “Rachel? Rachel.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“Stop thinking. You still got over twenty-four hours before you have to be at work. Enjoy it.”

“See you Monday.”

“See you Monday.”

 

“This for me?” Raylan asks stopping at the corner of his desk, looking at Rachel’s bowed head. 

“It’s on your desk so I guess so.” She doesn’t bother to look up. 

“Any idea of where it came from?”

“Wasn’t me,” Tim says over on his side of the partition. Rachel and Raylan both give him a look. He looks way too amused. He’d watched her put the drink on Raylan’s desk, a raised eyebrow thrown her way. She’d shrugged. 

She hasn’t talked to Tim about what she’d decided about her and Raylan, which truthfully isn’t much. The tension that had been between them before her leaving was just exhausting. Plus, the fact that he actually faced some a punishment went a long way in making her feel better about going back to work. Art came through, which she shouldn’t have doubted in the first place. 

Raylan turns back to Rachel. “Thank you.”

She looks up then. “You’re welcome.” She sort of smiling, which makes Raylan smiles so hard his face hurts. The first day back after suspension and coffee. Maybe they can at least get back to being friends. 

R&R

They’re at Art’s house, they being Raylan, Tim and Rachel. They had celebrated Drew Thompson’s capture with the other guys but were still running on that high that comes from a successful capture when Art invited them to his place. Art had decided his place was best and not the office because “the wife is out of town and I can do whatever the hell I want.”

They had spent a good couple of hours sitting at Art’s dining room table reliving the high lights since they got on Drew’s trail. 

Art and Tim are still at the dining room table. Tim’s got his chin on his crossed arms, looking at Art. Art’s close, head bowed low like he’s telling Tim a secret. 

Rachel and Raylan are outside. She sits on the railing, back to one of the posts. Raylan leans on the railing looking at the front yard, the street, and the houses on the other side. It’s bright enough with the moon and the street lights to make out if there are other people awake now. No one else seems to be up, which makes a lot of sense given the early morning hour. 

“Did you mean it about the show tunes?” Raylan asks, breaking the remarkably companionable silence they’ve been sharing. She’d come out first, he followed a few minutes later, waiting to make sure the others weren’t paying attention. Not that it matters if they were since the secret’s been long out of the bag. He gave her smile. When she returned it, he went to leaning on railing. 

“Yeah,” Rachel says, answer quick like of all the questions to ask, he would ask that. That wasn’t something she’d shared while they were together. He shouldn’t be surprised though. Her interests run the gamut.

“Saw Porgy and Bess once.” She looks at him, brows arched as if to ask really? He knows her well enough to not have to look at her to see her expression. “Yeah. A girl I was seeing down in Miami was into theatre. I liked it. Not a fan of musicals though. I could never understand just breaking out into song.” When she laughs, he laughs, too. “Bess wasn’t as pretty as you though.”

“You flirting with me Raylan?” She looks at him, only a half smile on her face. 

He looks at her. “If you have to ask, then I’m not doing it right.” Things have been going well like when they had finally gotten used to each other and could flirt like it didn’t mean much. “Feels like old times.” It’s been almost six month since Art showed them the phone records and unknowingly fucked up the best thing Raylan had going. 

“Yeah,” Rachel responds. Her smile’s still there, even though she’s turned to look away from him. 

A few minutes later, Rachel announces. “I think it’s about time I called it a night.” Rachel slides off the railing. “Goodnight Raylan.”

She’s almost to the door when he says, “Said I was easy on the eyes.”

“That I did.” 

Raylan turns, leans back against the railing, hands at his side. “Said I was a good marshal, too.”

She turns, her hair sliding across her shoulder. “I did.”

“You mean any of it?”

“You know I did since I’ve said it plenty of times before then.” 

The way he smiles at her, like she made his night, she can’t help but smile, too. “So you don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you Raylan.”

“You just can’t forgive me.”

“Forgiveness’ never been my strong suit.”

He laughs. “Well, I can understand that.”

“I’m kidding. I’ve forgiven you.”

“When were you going to tell me?” He looks like he’s torn between being relieved and upset. 

She shrugs. “I didn’t want to you think forgiveness meant I wanted to be with you again when...”

Raylan pushes off the railing, closes the distance between them. “Give me some credit Rachel.” He’s not torn anymore. He’s clearly pissed. 

“When I didn’t know what I wanted.”

There’s another step he needs to take to be right in her space. To be close enough to kiss if… “You said didn’t. Does that mean you know now?”

Before Rachel can respond, Art yells, “You two better not be making out on my porch!” Tim’s laughter is so loud he might as well be on the porch with them. 

Raylan rolls his eyes. “Too late Art. We’re really putting on a real show for the neighbors.”

Rachel yells, “We’re not making out. We so happen to be talking about what an amazing and understanding boss we are so lucky to have.”

“Damn right!”

“I think it’s about time I put the old man to bed,” Tim says.

“Shut up, Tim.” All they hear after is Tim’s laughter. They let the sound die away before they start again. 

“This hasn’t been easy for me either.” She stops, swallows around the lump forming in her throat. “That night you came over after you’d done what you did. You said you loved me. To be perfectly honest, that scared me. You’re not the kind of man that falls for a woman like me and I’m not the kind of woman that should fall for a man like you. I was working through that. Then everything happened. Then I really knew just how much you care. And my job is important to me, what being a Marshal represents. I had to reconcile all of it in my head and heart. They didn’t always agree." She says the last words in a whisper. “I mean the heart wants what it wants.”

“Rachel…” He makes a move to close the distance between them. 

She takes a step back and when she does; his mouth flattens out into a tight line. “Whatever I say doesn’t mean we’re not going to talk about it what you did. Really talk about it.”

He takes another chance and reaches out, placing his hands on her upper arms. “Okay. I can do that.”

“And we have to talk about where our relationship is going. I mean we were together for a while. If we got back together, we couldn’t go on like we were doing forever. It was only a matter of time Art found out.”

Raylan goes back to the railing and sits while saying, “Yeah, that wasn’t ideal. I have to remember to get a burner phone for next time.” Rachel follows and sits next to him and bumps his shoulder at his words. “Too soon?” Rachel just shakes her head laughing at the way he said too soon.

“A couple of times I thought about that. I have a couple of years before retirement. I can go to Glynco, maybe. Teach again. That’s if you want to transfer. If your Mama and Nick can come, too. ”

“What?”

“You say that like you can’t believe I’d so such a thing. Why does everyone keep forgetting I was married before. Sacrifice and compromise aren’t foreign concepts to me.”

“But you talking about my mama and my nephew. I don’t know most men that would do that.”

“I think you know by now I’m not like most men.”

“Raylan, always so humble.” They both laugh. “But you did call it a sacrifice. Is that what it’ll be?”

“Yes. A willing one if I get to keep you.”

“You said you hated going to Glynco.”

“Because it wasn’t my choice. I felt like it was demotion for not catching Mark Whitman. No one ever said as much, but I knew. This time going there would be my choice. I missed you. I missed us. I missed your mama’s cooking. My ego took bit of a hit without Nick’s hero worship.”

“It was nice not to have to hear about the great Marshal Givens every time I saw him for a change,” Rachel jokes. 

“Plus, I’m not looking to be where Art is. That’s never been a goal of mine. So instead of working till they tell me I gotta get on, I’ll leave sooner.”

“You serious?”

“Yes.”

“And if I don’t want to transfer?”

“Rachel, we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

 

“Hold the elevator,” Rachel hears after she’s just stepped inside.

Raylan smiles when he sees who’s waiting. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Raylan.” Rachel can’t help the big smile that spreads across her face. “Here a little early aren’t you?”

It’s early enough that they are the only ones on the elevator, which is surprising since Raylan hardly ever arrives as early as she does, even when he tells her he’s right behind her when they leave her place in the morning. He can be on time, rarely ever early unless he’s her and Tim’s Coffee Bitch. 

“Figured, why not?”

“Thank you by the way,” Rachel says, looking at the silver doors ahead. He turns to her, confused. “I’m going to make good use of that gift certificate.”

He laughs then, turns back to the doors. “I have no idea why they call it Victoria’s Secret. What’s the secret about panties when everyone can see? Women want men to see their panties, which terrible word, at some point.”

“Maybe because they’re whore’s panties?” She’s still facing forward, her face neutral until it breaks out into a grin at his reaction. She can see his reflection, him pinching the bridge of his nose while simultaneously reaching for the button to stall their ascent. 

“I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean only whores wear those kind of panties obviously. I’ve seen yours. I thought they were Ellie Mae’s and well Ellie Mae…” He trails off, hands going to his hips, lips pursed. “I got you that damn gift certificate.”

She had turned to look directly at him during his little speech. She honestly enjoyed his flailing. 

“You could’ve just said you were sorry, Raylan. Not that you needed to. I’d forgotten all about what you said.”

“No. You had to know I was sorry and how sorry especially after everything. Me going into that store then driving over to your place to deliver it. But nobody was home. That kinda ruined the effect. I should’ve called. Not that I could’ve stayed with that shithead Davenport getting away from his detail.” 

Rachel wants to get closer but the cameras are watching. Its bad enough they haven’t played like they are in the midst of argument nobody else should witness hence stopping the elevator. Art would probably kill them if he knew. She crosses her arms and tries to look angry for the cameras.

“I don’t know what Victoria’s Secret is but I got one of my own.”

He smirks back. “Pray tell what that would be?”

“What kind of woman doesn’t wear any kind of panties?”

His mouth opens, closes, before a slow smile spreads across his face. He cocks his head to the side and just looks at her. He knew going to Miami way back when would turn out to be a good thing, not the least of which was getting the hell out of Kentucky. He had no idea coming back to Kentucky would be even better. 

She reaches in front of him to get the elevator moving again. 

“I’ll be home tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> 7) Bonus for TO fans. Just because. http://www.bonappetit.com/people/celebrities/article/ba-qa-timothy-olyphant
> 
> 8) Credit Buddy TV for Rachel’s feelings about what happened with Nicky Augustine: http://www.buddytv.com/articles/justified/justified-interview-erica-taze-53179.aspx
> 
> 9) Some of Raylan’s history I got from Wiki at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raylan_Givens
> 
> 10) Last but not least, thanks for taking the time to read this! There's not enough R&R out there. I hope I did the characters justice and you all found this to enjoyable to read and believable in the context of the universe I created.


End file.
